


Jenga

by micdropbam



Series: Building Blocks [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Age Play, Alpha Bruce Wayne, Alpha Dick Grayson, Alpha Jason Todd, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Angst, Community: dckinkmeme, Costume Kink, Courting Rituals, Creepy Fluff, Damian Wayne Gets a Hug, Damian Wayne is a Little Shit, Dark, Depression, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Dysphoria, Dystopian Elements, Empathy, Everyone Has Issues, Feminization, Grooming, Group Sex, Growing Up, Hand Feeding, Hurt/Comfort, Intersex Male Omegas, Knotting, M/M, Manipulative Bruce Wayne, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Molestation, Mpreg, Name-Calling, Nesting, No beta we die like mne, Omega Tim Drake, Pack Building, Pack Dynamics, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rutting, Sex Pollen, Sexual Roleplay, Somnophilia, Teasing, Tim Drake Needs a Break, Tim Drake is Not Okay, Tim Drake-centric, Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable Narrator, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:15:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 46,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28107654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micdropbam/pseuds/micdropbam
Summary: Tim Wayne, née Drake, was supposed to be the keystone of the Wayne pack, and now he is.But the pieces won't stop moving.If the centrepiece cannot hold it together, what will happen to the tower?Sequel to Keystone; check tags and read only if this fic will not harm you.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake/Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake/Dick Grayson, Tim Drake/Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Series: Building Blocks [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2059185
Comments: 162
Kudos: 319





	1. Past is Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> You are not seeing double, if you just came from "Keystone". The first chapter here is identical to the last chapter there.

Maybe it was the frequency with which he was knotted or maybe it was because an omega’s first heats were irregular, but Tim’s first heat lasted less than twenty-four hours.

When it was over he was starving again, and his pussy and cock felt tingly and tender. Not bruised or torn or anything, but almost like a more intimate version of the well-used feeling in his crotch after he rode his bike for a long time. He hadn’t been rubbed raw, because there was so much slick, but even so it had been rubbed a hell of a lot.

Physically, he recovered quickly.

Mentally… he’d been waiting for this bond for years. It was the finish line.

But now he had crossed it, age fourteen. Why didn’t he feel relieved?

He’d been all wrong about it being a finish line. Letting himself be turned into an omega wasn’t a race for a finish line. It was training to qualify to begin a marathon.

And now the marathon had begun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim deals with Bruce's rut, Jason's jealousy, his own fantasy, and Dick's whoopsie.

With the convenient timing of his parents’ attack, there was no legal necessity for their bond to be registered, since no one could challenge Bruce's rights to keep Tim as long as Jack was alive. Registering a bond had many other benefits, but none which mattered to Bruce. Tax benefits? Bruce didn’t need money. Legal power of attorney? Bruce knew Tim would do whatever he wanted anyway. Tim had always done most of his work remotely and his parents’ attack, again, conveniently gave even more reason for him to become more of a notorious recluse.

On the other hand, Tim couldn’t really understand what was the benefit of _not_ registering him was. Yes, people would know he was an omega, but what real harm could come from that? Any common criminals who made an attempt at hostage taking would quickly discover that Wayne Manor was more impregnable than a military installation. His business reputation taking a hit? It wasn’t as if Bruce would fire him, and anyway if he had won people’s respect despite being (when he started) thirteen years old, he damn well hoped that presenting as an omega wouldn’t change their minds.

But Bruce felt so satisfied, maybe even smug, when he said they would keep Tim’s dynamic a secret for now. So Tim decided not to question it..

Maybe Bruce just liked secrets.

——

Being an omega meant having heats. Tim had known that, of course, everyone knew that.

But he hadn’t quite grasped that being a real omega, rather than an unpresented pup that everyone pretended was already an omega, would also mean dealing with ruts.

Unlike omegas, whose heats usually developed into a predictable cycle, ruts happened on no cycle at all and science had no definitive answer for how they were triggered, neither environmentally nor in the body, although there were many theories.

Some very avant-garde theorists even proposed that rut wasn’t a biological reality at all, but merely a societal license for alphas to get hotheaded and horny and then make that everybody else’s problem.

Tim quickly discovered first hand that this was not the case.

Bruce actually took hormone stabilizers as a prophylactic against Poison Ivy’s pollens, which often induced rut, a great way for her to cause panics and riots. While in his time living in the manor, Tim had seen both Jason and Dick need to be locked into the safe rooms to ride out ruts, he had never seen it happen to Bruce.

Maybe Ivy got fed up, because mere weeks after the bonding, Ivy somehow got him with a massive dose of something. According to what he found out later, Bruce had kept it together long enough to get her restrained, then left Dick to handle the handover to GCPD.

At the time, Tim only found himself suddenly lifted from his bed in the small hours of the morning. He’d reflexively flailed and gotten a bite to his neck that rendered him immediately limp as Bruce, still dressed as Batman except for the cowl, carried Tim with him to the safe room and then locked them both inside.

While he was bite-drunk Tim couldn’t really do anything but mewl and take it as Bruce pounded into his body, Tim’s ankles pressed into the bed by Bruce’s hands. The alpha’s expression was so savage it was frightening, especially because Bruce made no effort to soothe or explain. In fact, he didn’t talk at all.

Bruce made no particular effort to make Tim come, but despite the discomfort from Bruce shoving into him while Tim was barely lubricated, the depth and angle of the position soon turned Tim’s whines into pathetic cries of ecstasy.

Tim thought that after the first knot that Bruce would calm down, especially because he could feel pleasure and possessiveness flooding through the bond. Despite the heavy weight of Bruce’s body over him and the angle of his legs which became more and more uncomfortable, he felt relieved.

But it was just getting started.

Bruce didn’t pull out when his knot went down. Instead, he lifted Tim off the bed, still connected, and flipped them so that Bruce was lying down and Tim was on top of him. The intoxication from the bite had faded.

“Ride me,” growled Bruce, the first words he had spoken since Tim was yanked from his nest.

Tim was confused but there was no time for it. He began to rock on Bruce’s cock.

“Faster. Lift yourself higher. You’re mine.”

Tim tried.

“You’re mine. You’re _mine.”_

Tim rocked his hips desperately. He was even more scared than before. He had only felt such strong emotions from Bruce when he was marked by him, but then it had been a sweet emotion. This was a triumph that was vicious.

When the knot receded the second time, Bruce grabbed onto Tim’s thighs and stopped him from pulling off.

“Keep my cock inside you and turn around.”

This round Bruce talked.

“I should just keep you on a cock all the time. Make the boys beg me to let them have my sloppy seconds. Your pussy is mine. Even when they’re touching you, you’re mine. They only fuck you when I let them, understand? Answer me, slut.”

“Yes, alpha,” whimpered Tim.

“I’m gonna be the one to fuck a baby into you. Make them see you swell and wish it was their seed. Desperate to please me so that I let them knock you up next. Gonna give us such smart, pretty pups, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes, alpha!”

“I can see my cum spilling out of you, omega. I can hear it. Fuck yourself on me faster, make me put even more cum inside you.”

In the fourth round Tim couldn’t keep going riding Bruce, he was too exhausted.

He slept through the fifth round and was only aware that it occurred before he woke up to the sensation of Bruce finally, _finally,_ pulling out.

“Shh, my love. Go back to sleep,” Bruce said, soft and tender.

Tim got a lump in his throat and felt tears at his eyes, but he also wanted to laugh. Then he thought he really was going to laugh, but instead he just let out a choked noise and some tears escaped.

“Oh, my poor Tim.” Bruce’s lips pressed against his wet cheek. “My Tim, it’s alright. Rest now. You were so good for alpha, well done.”

Tim let his eyes shut.

——

Tim had known that being bonded would let him sense his alphas’ emotions when they were nearby. Under his “finish line” way of thinking, he thought this would be like a cheat code to understanding the rest of his pack.

He’d been so naive.

Jason always said Bruce was easy on him, but Tim had not been prepared for how much Bruce’s bond thrummed with satisfaction whenever Bruce interacted with Tim. Even when Bruce looked stern or indifferent, as long as his focus was on Tim, Tim could sense it—satisfaction, maybe even pride...

It seemed like it ought to be reassuring, that even when Bruce was lecturing him coldly, there was satisfaction behind it, but instead it was unsettling. And Tim’s mind was further disturbed because he couldn’t understand _why_ it rattled him so much.

It felt like a puzzle he couldn’t solve, a clue to a mystery he hadn’t noticed.

Bruce didn’t seem to realize that he frequently broadcasted an emotion that conflicted so drastically with his surface expressions and actions, and Tim somehow didn’t want to tell him. The last thing he wanted was for Bruce to attempt to be _more_ repressed about his feelings.

Plus, Tim told himself, it wasn’t a bad thing. It couldn’t be, it was a positive emotion. It was just confusing, it was that Tim didn’t like being confused, that was the only reason why he increasingly had lurching, queasy feelings in his tummy and a squeezing in his chest when he had to interact with Bruce.

Bruce being satisfied was good. If it didn’t make Tim feel good, then Tim must be misunderstanding him.

——

Jason’s bond had some unexpected surprises too. The entire time they’d known each other, Jason practically never spoke to Tim without it including teasing. Even before Bruce’s plan, Jason had physically and verbally bullied him, mostly affectionately, but sometimes Jason really could be mean.

It was those mean times where Jason’s emotions across the bond surprised him. Because while Tim could feel the anger he expected to feel from Jason, he did not expect the jealousy.

With Jason however, Tim felt brave enough to bring it up.

——

Tim knocked on Jason’s bedroom door in the evening. Earlier that day, when Jason came home from school, he had jeered at Tim that his nipples were visible through his t-shirt, that he was getting “moobs,” that Tim needed to wear a bra. He blocked Tim’s exit when he tried to remove himself from the situation, until Tim managed to feint and duck to get away.

It was hurting Tim’s feelings and he knew Jason knew it, even more than ever before because Tim was sure his end of the bond was showing his embarrassment and humiliation.

And Tim was confused again, because across the bond was _jealous-jealous-jealous._ Jealous of what? Did Jason want to develop little breasts?!

So Tim walked to Jason’s room and knocked.

_Recognition. Apprehension._

“Yeah, come in Timbo,” Jason’s voice called.

Tim opened the door. Jason was leaning back in his desk chair, twirling a mechanical pencil slowly. There was a laptop open in front of him, a bunch of textbooks and library books and notebooks strewn around, some with uncapped highlighters on them, some fallen on the floor.

“You know it just occurred to me that with the bond, Bruce can’t do that bullshit to you where he suddenly comes in the fucking window to prove he can catch anybody off guard,” Jason said and tossed the pencil onto the desk carelessly. “Whatcha want?”

Tim closed the door behind him and considered a moment whether he should keep standing (awkward) or sit on Jason’s bed (asking for it). He decided to keep standing. This was gonna be awkward anyway. “Um. Jason. Y’know, earlier today. About my chest.”

 _Shame. Insecurity._ Jason sat up a little, hunching his shoulders and looking at his desk. “Yeah. I was just teasing.”

“I know that but I really don’t like that kind of teasing,” Tim said, his arms crossing self-consciously. He felt like even just talking around the topic of his nipples was making them perk up somehow. “Like. I’m not a girl. I don’t want to be one. I know I’m an omega, but I didn’t become an omega to be a girl.”

“You could probably tell from the bond I came home pissed,” Jason muttered, still looking at his desk. “Shouldn’t’ve taken it out on you though. I don’t…” A hint of arousal fluttered through the bond. “If anything, y’know, I like the way your chest looks so… fucking stupid for me to tease you about it.”

“I could tell you were angry, yeah. You… um, you also felt… jealous.”

The shame and insecurity got a little stronger. Jason laughed without humour. “Yeah. Well. Guess there’s no point in denying it. I am.”

“I get it from you a lot,” Tim said, “but I don’t get why, and… I dunno… maybe if we talked about it, you won’t have to act like such a jerk?”

Jason met his eyes then with a handsome smirk. “Don’t bet the rent on that one. I dunno. What’s to say?” He sighed and rocked in the chair a little. “I’m not saying I’m stupid, but I have to actually work hard and study to get my fucking B average. And then there’s you, three years younger, and you’re probably smart enough that you could teach every goddamn class I’m taking. And you’re sweet and cute and everyone likes you more. I like you more than me, that’s how I know.”

“You’re better than me at lots of things. Fighting—”

Jason waved that aside. “Anything where I’m better than you, Dick and Bruce are better than me. Were you thinking you’re the only one I’m jealous of? Don’t flatter yourself, nerd.”

Tim made an amused snort. “Okay, I won’t try to argue with you about it. I don’t think you’re being fair to yourself, though.”

Jason shrugged. “Well, as much as I’d love to sit here talking about feeeeeelings with you, I have a paper to finish.”

Tim reached for the doorknob, then said with his hand on it, “You wanna come sleep with me when you’re done?”

 _Arousal._ “I might. But you better fuck off right now so I can focus and get it done.”

——

Then there was Dick.

Dick adored him, he really did. Not that Tim had thought Dick was _lying_ before, exactly, but being able to feel that adoration flowing through the bond? That was another level.

It was easy, in fact, to check out of his own mind and emotions altogether when he was with Dick. To just float on the stream of Dick’s admiration and let himself mirror it back, the easiest thing ever. Dick was like his own personal celebrity idol, the original Robin. Dick was gorgeous, in costume or out of it. A nine and ten year old Tim had filled his room and his computer harddrives with pictures and videos of Dick as Robin.

A couple months into being bonded, Tim shyly asked if Dick had a Robin costume he could still fit into.

“To fuck you in, you mean,” Dick said, feeling Tim’s arousal behind the shyness across their bond.

Tim nodded, embarrassed.

Dick stroked his cheek. “We could make it more, if you want. I could rescue you first.”

Tim’s heart beat a little faster. “Rescue me from what?”

“Kidnapped? Only thing is, you’d have to promise to be a good little civilian and let me tie you up, because you can hit damn hard, little bird.”

So that was how Tim found himself zip-tied in the trunk of a car with a gag and a hood. He’d been pulled from his bed in the darkness so he hadn’t been able to see Dick, though of course he could sense his alpha’s excitement.

He got scared for real when he heard a sound of gunshots and felt the car swerving and accelerating, with more gunshots. It wasn’t impossible that their little roleplay had gotten crashed by actual villains, and oh God, wouldn’t _that_ just be the most embarrassing and impossible to explain thing in the world, if Mr. Freeze or Penguin or really anybody busted open the trunk of a car Robin was driving and they found Bruce Wayne’s youngest ward trussed up in nothing but boxers.

The car pulled to a halt, and then there was the sound of hand to hand combat. All throughout, Tim only sensed excitement from Dick, which should’ve set him at ease, but he couldn’t calm down. As if Dick would be scared at any time!

Then the trunk burst open.

“I’ve got you,” Robin said, lifting Tim out of the trunk. “Let me get you somewhere safe.”

Tim still couldn’t speak because of the gag. He was carried in strong arms for a few minutes, then set down on a soft surface. When the hood came off, he could see they were in a bedroom.

“Robin,” Tim whispered when the gag was untied, “you saved me!”

“It’s what I do,” Robin said cheerfully. “Those were just small-time crooks, anyway. They didn’t give me any problems.”

“I wish I could have seen you fight,” Tim said, gaining volume as he warmed to his role. “I’m your biggest fan.”

“You’re kind of small to be my biggest fan,” Robin teased, cutting loose Tim’s other bindings.

“No, I really am,” Tim insisted. “I think you’re _amazing,_ Robin. I’ve always wanted—”

Robin tilted his head. “Wanted to what?”

Tim’s cheeks burned. “—to meet you.”

Robin finished with the last binding, but he stayed close. “Well, now you’ve met me,” he said. “Did you want anything else?”

“I want—I want you to kiss me,” Tim managed.

Robin laughed and pressed a kiss to Tim’s forehead. “There, happy?”

“No, I mean, kiss me, k-kiss me on the mouth,” Tim said, somehow truly feeling nervous about asking this, even though he and Dick had already fucked many times and Tim had Dick’s scar on his neck.

“But you’re so little,” Robin said gently, running a finger over Tim’s lips. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I’m not—I do. I do want—I know, I want to be yours, Robin, your omega.”

“You really want that?” Robin moved his own mouth so close it was almost touching Tim’s. “No matter what it costs? Forever?”

“Yes.” God, this was a dream come true. Tim lost all sense of self-consciousness. “Make me yours, Robin! Take me!”

“Pretty little omega,” Robin crooned as he fucked Tim, as Tim panted with his eyes locked on the R on Robin’s chest and clenched around the cock inside him. “Why can’t I resist you, pretty baby? I never thought I’d do something like this. I shouldn’t be fucking such an innocent little thing.”

“I want it, I want you, Robin! It feels so good!”

“That’s right, sweetheart. You make me feel so good too.”

Afterwards Dick peeled off the domino and grinned at him. “Did I fulfill your fantasy, little bird?”

“It was fantastic,” Tim sighed. “How did you do those gunshots and stuff? It actually scared me!”

“Played a recording in the backseat,” Dick laughed. “All that swerving must have made me look like a drunk, though.”

Tim snuggled into Dick. “I loved it.”

Dick stroked his hair. “I loved seeing you love it.”

——

In the spring of Tim’s fifteenth year, Dick messed up.

He’d been rutting, so he’d been in the safe room with Tim, fucking the daylights out of him for several hours, until an exhausted Tim had fallen asleep. Dick had been sated enough by then to allow Tim to rest but too keyed up by his instincts to rest as well. Instead, he circled the perimeter of the safe room and checked his phone for notifications, the modern equivalent of gazing across the wilderness for wolves or lions.

He got an incoming call for his business role in Wayne Enterprises and he answered it, thinking it would be brief and could be important—better to check. He wanted to have his hands free, however, so he popped his phone on a mantle, still keeping his ears and eyes out for other potential threats.

Dick intended to hit speaker phone. He did not intend to answer it as a video call, but with his attention divided, that’s where his finger hit.

Within seconds, his caller—a board room filled with employees of the division of which his business cards proclaimed him vice chair—was treated to a view of a wild eyed Dick Grayson, bare shouldered, the angle sideways; but the sideways view did nothing to disguise the identity of the fucked-to-sleep naked omega lolled on the bed behind him.

Worse, Dick, in rut and unable to respond to any threat except with “hit it until it goes away or stops moving”, reacted to this threat by throwing his phone on the floor and smashing it. Therefore he had no chance to offer any explanation at all to the stunned employees of what they were seeing.

By the time Dick had roused Tim, they had agreed Bruce should be told, and Bruce was told, enough crucial minutes had passed that somebody told somebody, who told somebody, and soon so many somebodies were talking that Bruce decided that the thing to do was to get ahead of it.

——

The next morning in the “Celebrations and Memorials” section of the Gotham Gazette, a formal photograph of the Wayne pack, including Timothy, was followed by this text:

> The Wayne pack of Gotham (established 1640) announces with joy the bonding of its alphas to TIMOTHY JACKSON WAYNE, formerly of the Drake pack of Gotham (established 1770).
> 
> We had hoped that Timothy’s sire would recover from his accident and be able to celebrate this merger of the Drake pack into the Wayne with us, but we take heart from the happy suitability of the Drake pack motto, _ad meliora (towards better things),_ for that of the Wayne pack: _semper currens (always running)._

Many people, one could assume, read the words.

One particular person read the words with intense displeasure.

Talia al Ghul closed the window and called for her son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could not fucking believe that in 80 years of Batman nobody gave the Wayne family a fucking motto. I really have to do all the work around here.
> 
> Name nerd shit: Wayne, the surname, comes from _wain_ (wagon) which in Latin in _currus_ which is related to the verb _currere_ meaning _to run_. So the motto of "always running" is insufferably clever, which to me is what I look for in a Wayne.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another piece enters the pack as the Wayne family welcomes (?) Bruce's pup, Damian.

“Drake.”

“Drake.”

Tim continued doing what he was doing, which was having a text conversation with Oracle over the command centre in the Batcave, so as not to interrupt the spoken instructions she was giving Batman.

“Drake.” This time a small pebble from who knows where dinged Tim in the back of the head.

Tim hit mute and swiveled in his chair. “That’s not my name anymore and I won’t answer to it. You can call me Tim, or Beaudam, or Nasib—”

“Don’t try to speak Arabic at me,” Damian said from the other side of the Batcave with a scowl. “Your pronunciation is atrocious, Drake.”

“If I see this ‘Drake’ you’re talking about, I’ll tell him to work on his Arabic,” Tim said crossly and turned back to the monitor.

Being a stepparent was never easy.

Being a stepparent of a child who was only six years younger, difficult times a hundred.

Being a stepparent of a child who had already tried to murder you six times?

Lesser people than Tim would have quit entirely, so Tim thought viciously that he could be granted a bit of petty deliberate ignoring of Bruce’s pup.

“Timothy,” said Damian sullenly, and Tim turned around again. “Remind Gordon that I am ready to provide back-up.”

“Oracle knows that and more. More than even I do,” Tim said. Part of him was saying that he should be kinder when Damian has actually bothered to use his name, but this difficulty with the Gotham power grid was making him testy to begin with. “If she asks for you, I’ll tell you.”

“Tt.”

A solid minute passed, enough time for Tim to become engrossed again in the patterns, before a much, much larger object hit him in the back of the head and Tim slumped over the keyboard, unconscious.

——

When Tim next regained consciousness, he was being held in Jason’s arms.

“—gets home, you’re really gonna fucking get it this time, demon brat. Can’t even take a goddamn leak without you trying to murder the pack omega.”

“Tt.”

“How long was I out?” Tim said. His head was killing him.

“I don’t know, but probably not long, because I came in just as your little asshole of a stepson was about to finish his assassination with a knife to your jugular. Oracle’s already let Bruce and Dick know and they’re cutting things short to come home.”

“But they were so close...”

“Close? Tim, you’ve got a concussion at best. Everyone wants to make sure you’re okay. You just close your eyes, okay? No worrying. Concussion protocol.”

——

“Alpha, I don’t want that.”

Bruce’s expression didn’t change, but Tim felt his surprise across the bond. “Why not? I came here specifically to tell you because I thought it would reduce your stress as you recover.”

“I appreciate that, alpha,” Tim said, pulling a no-longer cold compress from his head, “and I’m not saying that we don’t need to put in place more... prevention measures. But Damian is just a pup, no matter how he acts. He only acts that way _because_ of Talia and the League. If you make her take him back, he’ll never become anything else.”

Bruce said, “Hm.” The bond gave Tim almost nothing in terms of emotion, but that’s wasn’t unusual with Bruce.

“If he keeps trying to hurt me, maybe I could go away for a while,” Tim suggested. “Maybe with Jason or Dick. Or I could... intern? With someone else in the Justice League, maybe?”

There was a surge of possessiveness at that. “No.”

“Okay, nix the Justice League, but there are plenty of Wayne Enterprises subsidiaries I could go to around the world. Scout out inefficiencies on the ground, that kind of thing. I can still be useful.”

“Hm.”

A long pause and nearly nothing from Bruce, no matter how much Tim strained to read his alpha.

“My head hurts,” Tim said, which was true. He closed his eyes.

He waited for Bruce to say something, but there was only silence, and when Tim reopened his eyes, the dim medical bay was empty.

Tim thought about reaching for the call button to ask Alfred for a new cold compress or pain medication. The button was right there.

Suddenly however he just felt engulfed with sadness. He turned over in his cot and tried to hunch up with the blankets.

——

The others were used to Tim trying to push when injured or sick into coming back too soon, so when he holed up in his room and didn’t press even to come back from injury leave with Wayne Enterprises, he knew the others were concerned that his head injury was actually worse than the scans indicated.

But what was keeping him in bed and unconnected wasn’t something that would show up on a scan.

Tim opened the window. It was an unseasonably warm day in late September. There was a pine tree visible from his window where red squirrels were active, and Tim watched them for a little while.

Then he got a moment’s sense and managed to dive for the staff he kept leaning against the wall in time to aim its end at the centre of mass of Damian Wayne.

“Is suddenly appearing via window genetic?” Tim snapped.

“I wish to speak to you alone,” said Damian, remaining perched on the sill. “I have some questions.”

“I’d love to answer your questions, but you’ll have to forgive me if I have trouble answering any of them. I’m recovering from a head injury.”

Damian showed no reaction to this, not that Tim expected one. “I was listening to your conversation with Father in the medical bay eight days ago. Why did you tell him not to send me away?”

“If you were listening,” said Tim, “then you heard the reasons.”

“The reasons you gave made sense as advice that Father would take, because they served his interests. But you did not give the reasons why _you_ wanted me not to leave.” The boy frowned. “That is what I have come here to find out.”

Tim checked himself from saying that the reasons he gave Bruce were his honest beliefs, because Damian had just admitted something major in a sideways fashion. “What do you think my goals are?”

“Your goals? I don’t know what your specific goals are. But my existence is against every one of your interests.”

“I would like to hear your idea of my interests as they conflict with your existence,” Tim said, and to Damian’s wary look, continued, “Oh, come on. If you’re telling me what you think are _my interests_ and you’re right, then by definition I already know everything you’re about to say.”

Damian pressed his lips together, apparently couldn’t counter this argument, and spoke. “I am Father’s blood heir. As long as I exist, the succession of a pup of your line to head of the Wayne pack is in serious doubt. In addition, you are the pack member most in need of Father’s continued training. My efforts to monopolize the training time and energy of the others directly impacts your value to the pack. Finally, my interest is to merge the Wayne pack into the al Ghul pack. In the al Ghul pack, you would have no special status as mate of the pack head. You would be just another omega.”

This he delivered very loftily, as if he wasn’t a ten year old boy in a Gotham Heights Day School warm-weather uniform, which meant he was squatting in little plaid shorts and knee socks with t-bar shoes.

Even Tim, who had seen Damian carrying a severed head that the pup had personally decapitated, sometimes got distracted by the cuteness of Damian in his school uniform.

“Well,” said Tim, refocusing, “that does explain some things that I didn’t understand about you. Let me see if I can make it clear. My only goal, my only interest, as you put it, is to help Alpha in his mission as Batman. You’re his son, and I am his omega. He wants to have you as part of his pack, but he also doesn’t want me to be murdered. I gotta admit, I don’t wanna be murdered either. So he offered to send you away. But I don’t think we’ve exhausted everything we can do for you yet, and I know that Alpha would soon regret it if he let you go back to the League. How can he live with himself if he can’t save his own son?”

Damian didn’t respond or visibly react.

After a moment, Tim, feeling increasingly awkward about the staff nearly touching touching Damian’s chest, pulled it back and said, “So... that’s my motivation.”

“I did not think that such admirable omegas existed outside of books,” Damian said, rather flat and hard for Tim to decipher.

“Admirable how?” said Tim.

Damian rolled gracefully into the room, and Tim took a step back.

“I see now that I came here with data from the wrong sources,” Damian said, standing up straight and dignified. “Now that I have more accurate information, there is an obvious solution which will take us out of conflict.”

“Obvious?”

“Tt. Well. Perhaps not obvious to you, since you are constantly telling everyone that you see me as a pup.”

Tim bit the inside of his cheek lightly. “Go on.”

“Once I develop my knot, you will reserve your next heat for me to claim you,” Damian said, matter-of-fact and serious. “An heir of my blood and yours will be unquestioned in succession to both the Wayne pack and the al Ghul pack. Moreover, I have high confidence that the pups you will bear will be extraordinary. You are the only person in the world that I have failed to kill more than once, you know.”

As Tim watched, speechless, Damian strode to the door to the hall and opened it. He paused, said casually, “Of course, in the meantime Timothy, you must not let Father or the others impregnate you,” and went out, shutting the door quietly.

Tim felt a strong headache coming on.

——

After that, Damian’s assassination attempts on Tim stopped and he addressed him as “Timothy” rather than Drake, though he continued to address Jason and Dick as Todd and Grayson. The pup made no obvious effort to interact with Tim, but nor did he seek to avoid it.

Bruce was very pleased and Tim knew he had been right not to tell anyone about Damian’s outrageous “solution.” It would have put father and pup at odds just when they were starting to be able to interact more affectionately.

Better not to think about it. It couldn’t be a problem until Damian presented as an alpha, which wouldn’t be for another two years at least and might never happen at all, since he might be a beta.

Or an omega. Grooming wasn’t the only way someone became an omega, right? Some turned out that way naturally.

What would happen to Damian if he did present as an omega?

The League might want him back to give to one of their pack alphas, that could be a problem. Or in a lot of packs, they would basically arrange for the omega to be given to a pack that they wanted alliance with. But Bruce wouldn’t let anything bad happen to Damian... Damian could...

Damian could grow up and choose for himself.

Tim gave himself a mental shake. He _did_ choose this for himself, he _didn’t_ regret this.

He couldn’t regret this. He was the reason everything was going so well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beaudam and Nasib are terms I made up for what might be respectful addresses from pups to the male pack omega. Beaudam is a masculine riff on the French beau-père for stepfather, and Nasib means "share, portion; therefore destiny, fortune" in Arabic.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Jason want Tim to have pups now. Dick wants him to wait. Damian wants him to wait so _he_ can pup him. What does Tim want?
> 
> The good of the pack, of course. Always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy almost new year, here’s to an end of writers blocks and all other creative problems.

Now that he was sixteen, his heats were fully mature, meaning regular in length and frequency... and potentially fertile.

There had been discussions.

Dick was strident and passionate about waiting until Tim was eighteen to pup him. Jason was usually the one whose impulsive speech would start off the discussion, and as you might guess, his desires were for pups as soon as possible. He was emotionally impatient but grumpily willing to acknowledge the sense of waiting, since Tim was still so little even at sixteen. He was 5’4” now, which was two inches taller than he’d been when he’d presented, but still a good half a foot shorter than Dick, and Jason and Bruce were even taller than that. The top of his head only just reached Bruce’s shoulder.

He hadn’t expected to remain so short. Was it an omega thing? His parents weren’t giants, but even his mother had been 5’7” or so and his father was 5’10”.

Bruce usually said that the only deciding vote was Tim’s, and then the conversation would end.

Bruce always made sure he was with Tim during his heats the whole time. Not that Jason and Dick didn’t spend time with him, too, but it was always Jason and Dick that got forced out to patrol. Sometimes Jason even went out dressed as Batman (since his physique was the closest) to maintain the illusion that Bruce Wayne couldn’t be Batman, since Bruce and Tim Wayne’s heat leave dates from Wayne Enterprises was broadly known within the company.

Jason and Dick were out responding to a bat signal on a brisk fall night. Within his nest, Tim felt on fire with the intensity of his starting heat. He hadn’t been knotted yet and he was aching, but Bruce wouldn’t do anything but play with his cock and the area around his hole. He wouldn’t even slip a fingertip into Tim.

“A-alpha,” Tim begged, squirming his thighs against Bruce’s grip as the billionaire vigilante licked slowly and methodically along the teen’s wet seam and up to the tip of his little cock. “Please, it’s hurting, please fill it up...”

Bruce smirked up at him. “You really want me to fill you up?”

“Yes, yes please, I need a knot,” whined Tim. He felt so empty, that horrible kind of itchy burning inside, that needed to be rubbed so bad. Bruce had made him wear soft but inflexible mitten restraints to keep him from being able to touch himself, so nothing had been inside him all day, not even his own finger.

Bruce let him go, and Tim flipped over into lordosis position immediately, desperately hoping that the sight would inflame Bruce’s damnably calm instincts.

Tim felt no surge of anything from the bond, but Bruce did take hold of his hips and ease his cock inside bit by bit, so the relief he craved was finally given. Tim keened and clenched down hard as he came when Bruce finally shifted in that last inch.

“Little cock addict,” Bruce said, and Tim felt that broad hand ruffle his hair. “My sweet slut. Just look at you. Nothing can satisfy you but being filled.” He moved his hips a little, rocking back and forth inside Tim’s tight passage, then suddenly pulled out entirely.

“No!” Tim tried to push his butt back to find the cock but Bruce held him firm.

“Should I take the condom off?” Bruce asked. “Then I could really fill you up, Timmy. Fill you up with my cum. With my pups.”

If Bruce had stopped at ‘cum,’ Tim would have been deep enough in a desperate heat-addled head space that he would have said yes, but even after all that teasing and edging by his alpha, the word ‘pups’ jolted awake Tim’s higher brain functions.

_Not yet. It’s scary. I’m too young. I’m too small. If the others come back and knot me too I’ll definitely have a litter—three pups, maybe even more. I can’t be a dam yet, I’m not ready. God, what would Damian do if I was pregnant?! He’d go right back to trying to kill me._

“I saw Jéssica Rocha yesterday,” Bruce continued as Tim didn’t respond. Tim knew the name; she was an omega woman but she was also the senior director of Wayne Enterprises’ Latin American division. Like Tim, she was part of a pack that supported her career. “I congratulated her and asked her why she came in person, so close to giving birth? But she’s only five months along. She looked...” Bruce paused, as if searching for the word. “It wasn’t how she looked. It was the way it made me think of you, Tim, all swollen up for us. You would be even more magnificent. God, the thought of showing you off like that...”

“Let’s—let’s talk about it when my heat is over,” Tim managed, “with Jason and Dick.”

A little ripple of disappointment came across the bond, which made Tim push his face into the sheets and bite them to stop himself from immediately taking it back and telling Alpha to do whatever he wanted with Tim’s cunt, his womb, his body, his existence.

Bruce didn’t say anything, but his cock, still encased in that thin layer of latex, eased back into Tim and began to fuck him, steady and business-like. The massive alpha leaned over Tim’s back and kissed the nape of his neck. “I understand. I’m not disappointed.”

 _Lie._ “But you are,” Tim couldn’t help bursting out, frustrated tears leaking into the sheets as he felt simultaneously high and low, pleasured but so bad. Such a bad omega, disappointing his alpha.

“No, not disappointed with you.” Bruce didn’t change the steady rhythm of his thrusts. “Disappointed with myself, a little. You... ah... so good... you thought of the pack, when I didn’t. My good omega.”

These words plucked Tim out of his misery entirely, but he began to weep. “Alpha,” he cried out, clutching beneath him. “I love you, alpha!”

And Bruce sped up. Fucked him harder, smacked against him louder. “I know. Keep telling me.”

“Love you! Love you so much, alpha! Alpha! Feels so good!”

“My good boy. My Tim.”

——

Tim fell asleep while Bruce was still knotted inside him, and woke up to voices.

“...trouble as it looks. Just need to shower,” said Dick’s voice as Tim’s eyes fluttered open.

“Dick,” Tim said, his voice still thick from sleep.

“Hey there little bird,” Dick said in a different, gentler tone, and leaned in to kiss the omega’s cheek. Dick smelled strong, both his own sweat and city dirt, chemical and oily. “How are you doing?”

“I’m here too,” said Jason from somewhere, a little petulantly.

“’m okay,” croaked Tim. “Missed you. Want you.”

“Awww,” said Dick. “I’ll be right back, baby bird. Don’t worry...”

He trailed off because Tim had pulled him in, was snuffling noisily at his neck and grabbing onto him.

“Timmy,” laughed Dick, trying to disentangle himself. “I’ll get your nest dirty. I’ll get _you_ dirty.”

Tim whimpered, and Dick’s resistance began to crack. “I can wash. Dick... you smell good. Please stay with me.”

“I’ll take a shower, anyway,” Jason said, but he didn’t feel too put out, so Tim didn’t let himself worry about it.

“Oh Tim,” sighed Dick, helping Tim’s fumbling fingers open up his Nightwing costume and get it off, “why are you so sweet? My darling love.”

Tim let himself mewl and keen and drown in Dick’s adulation, pulled Dick hard against him and tried to rub his alpha against him, cover himself in Dick’s smell, even if it was dirty.

Bruce turned over in the nest and fell asleep at some point as Dick fucked him.

Dick whispered in Tim’s ear, sweet nothings mixed with kisses to his earlobe and temple. How loved he was, how good he felt, how much Dick had yearned for him. Everything was hushed and safe and dark. Tim felt the grime of Gotham getting onto him but it was what he wanted. To feel like he was sharing the mission with Dick.

Jason came back, clean, when Dick was still knotted to him, and Tim felt a little guilty about how he had ignored his youngest alpha, especially since Jason had taken it so well.

“Jason—come up here—I’ll suck you off,” Tim said, and he felt the surprise from not only Jason but Dick too. Tim had taken Bruce’s word that he wouldn’t have to give blow jobs once he presented, and he hadn’t. It was the strongest thing he could think of to tell Jason that he loved him too.

“Timbo,” Jason said, coming up, but not lowering his boxers, though his cock was straining out already. “You don’t have to do that, I can wait, you dumb kid.”

“You want to take care of Jace that bad, little bird?” Dick sounded sleepy but amused. “Can you wait until my knot goes down to actually get him in your mouth? It may be clean but I still don’t want his ass in my face.”

“Oh come on, don’t be selfish,” Jason said, betraying that despite telling Tim he didn’t have to, he really wanted it. “The nest is huge. Just turn yourself the other way, Dickhead.”

Dick grumbled but cooperated, shifting his upper body on top of Tim so that he was at an angle towards the still sleeping Bruce, while Tim bore down enough to let the knot shift slightly inside of him. This left just enough room for Jason, sans boxers, to straddle Tim.

“If you fart on me I will make you wish you were never born.”

Jason ignored Dick. “Show me your tongue, baby.”

Tim swallowed and opened his mouth, sticking out his tongue, and Jason carefully laid the head of his cock on top of it. Tim felt the weight, smelled the pure alpha scent of him.

“Fuck,” whispered Jason, not even moving. “Oh, fuck, baby, you’re so pretty.”

Tim pulled his tongue back, dragging the flat of it against the frenulum and up to the slit beading with precum. Jason swore again and pushed in to give Tim’s mouth more to lick and suck on, but not all the way. Not yet.

This used to be something he did at least once a day, sometimes three times. He knew how to do this, Jason didn’t need to be so gentle.

Tim reached with his one free hand and moved Jason’s hand into Tim’s hair.

“Oh goddamn,” Jason said, clutching at Tim’s hair and beginning to fuck his face. “Tim, fuck, this what you want? Wanna choke on my cock, little baby?” He moved his hips faster and didn’t stop when Tim momentarily gagged. “Yeah, choke on it. Mm, fuck, so good. Oh. Oh, wow.”

Musk and skin and spit, and Jason’s balls hitting his chin. Jason was so big, looming over him, taking control of him, and the weight of Dick on top of Tim made Tim feel even more trapped. His whole world was alphas, pushing on him, filling his cunt and his throat, filling his _lungs_ with the scent of them, to the extent that Tim was managing to breathe around the relentless cock that he couldn’t do anything but take.

“You’re so beautiful. Oh fuck, you’re sucking my cock, Tim. Fuck, fuck, fuck, take my load, suck it down, fuck!” Jason let go of Tim’s hair to grab at the knot that was forming just outside of Tim’s lips as alpha semen gushed into Tim’s mouth and the omega choked and gagged as he struggled to swallow the bitter fluid. It bubbled out at the corners and joined rivulets of drool down his chin to pool in the divot of his collar bones.

Jason pulled back, breathing hard, and the moonlight through the window hit Tim, making him reflexively close his eyes.

“So fucking gorgeous,” Jason breathed, while Tim’s eyes were still closed and the omega could feel the semen cooling on his skin.

“You’re so lucky, Jason,” Tim heard Bruce’s voice say, and when he opened his eyes to squint and adjust, he could see Bruce sitting up slightly on the other side of Dick. “To be the first Timmy trusts to give oral of his own will.”

“Yeah, God, Tim, thank you,” Jason said, grabbing for tissues just outside the nest on a nightstand and quickly wiping off the worst of the mess. “You want me to get a wet washcloth? Some water?”

“Yeah,” Tim managed. His throat hurt a little. “Both, yeah.”

——

Bruce carried Tim to the dining room for, officially, lunch, after that heat had broken.

Damian was at school, and Alfred smiled at Tim and announced that there would be chicken baguette with Caesar salad, and sticky toffee pudding for afters—all among Tim’s favourites. Alfred always made Tim’s favourites after his heats. It was all just as usual, in fact, and that was comforting as Tim was deposited by Bruce at the foot of the table. Bruce didn’t _need_ to carry him, he could walk, but it was traditional, like the specially padded omegan chair. Alfred liked things traditional in the dining room.

As Tim reached for his pitcher to pour himself a glass of ice water, however, Bruce brought up the topic again.

“Tim, you wanted to talk about having pups?”

Tim did not at all want to talk about having pups. Tim wanted to drink his water and eat his baguette and salad and then have seconds of the pudding, ideally with his attention buried in his phone the entire time catching up on what he’d missed while in heat. Outwardly, Tim blushed and said as he poured, “Oh... well...”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed to want pups,” Jason cut in eagerly.

“It’s not a good idea, Tim,” Dick said very seriously. “I know it’s hard to wait, but the pups will be healthier if you do.”

“He’s already sixteen,” Jason said, “he can have pups if he wants. I don’t think he’s gonna get any bigger anyway. What do you think B?”

“He might grow another inch or two,” Bruce said. “We could ask the doctor to check his bones and see if they’ve fused or not. It might be a good idea anyway, to check the pelvic inlet.”

“I’m sure the doctor will say we should wait until he’s eighteen,” said Dick.

“Well there’s Damian to think about also,” Tim said, somehow feeling unable to directly admit to being scared of and not wanting pups yet in the face of Jason’s warm eager smiles.

“That demon brat? He’ll just have to get used to it.”

“But he’s only just started to come around to me,” Tim said as Alfred returned, pushing the cart with their lunches. “Won’t he feel like he might be replaced as the pup of the family? He calls me Timothy now, which is an improvement, but I think he needs more time.”

“See? All the rational reasons are against it,” Dick said, and Jason scowled across the table at him.

“Boys,” said Bruce mildly, and the others looked at him. “Ah, thank you Alfred. Looks delicious.”

“I hope you enjoy it, Master Bruce,” said Alfred, moving down the table.

“I can tell Damian has awoken your instincts,” Bruce said with a fond look across the table at Tim, who flushed deeper but kept eye contact. “You want to make sure all is well with the pup you already call your own in your heart. He’ll be calling you Beaudam in no time, Tim, and then we’ll talk of this again, hmm?”

Since Tim did not think Damian was at all likely to start calling him Beaudam, he nodded in relief and was able to enjoy his lunch.

——

Bruce decided that Damian was ready to take on the mantle of Robin.

Jason was definitely willing to pass the mask, but that brought up the question of call names.

Damian said that having a Robin and a Red Robin on the same team was confusing to begin with. If Jason was changing, Damian would only accept the Robin mantle if Tim also changed his code name.

Tim had been waiting for years to be Robin outright, only to learn that he was about to lose even the knock-off Robin title, but he swallowed his disappointment. “That’s fine.”

“Do we have to keep the bird theme?” said Jason. “We could call you Duck, because a Drake is a male duck.”

“We could call you Goose because you’re an aggressive douche for no reason,” Tim countered, and Jason laughed.

Bruce showed no change in expression. “It doesn’t have to be a bird.”

“Blue Jay,” suggested Dick. “You and me could have matching colour schemes, Little Wing.”

Jason made a face. “No. I’ve spent all this time being called Robin, if I’m getting a new name, I want one that’s not so soft.”

They settled on Corvid for Jay and Macaw for Tim. Jason went for an all black costume, even though Dick pointed out that blue jays were also corvids, while Tim, still a bit sad about these changes, simply went for a palette and logo swap of his Red Robin uniform to blue-gold with the black instead of red, and a stylized M badge.

——

When Tim got Spoiler, the new vigilante who’d gotten increasingly active in ruining the villain Cluemaster’s schemes, restrained on a rooftop away from the action going on in the jewelry store below, he expected her to be incensed and she was.

“Why are you doing this?” she hissed. “I have to help—I know what his accomplices are doing!”

“Yeah, it’s pretty crazy how you know so much about what Cluemaster is gonna do every time,” Tim said, reaching forward to pull off the mask and confirm what he already knew. A pretty teenage girl with blue eyes and blonde hair scowled back at him. “Almost as if you live with him, like his daughter, Stephanie April Brown, born on April 3rd—”

“Yes okay okay okay you got me, but what’s the problem? What, do you think I’m doing this as part of one of his schemes?! He doesn’t have that kind of brains.”

“No, he doesn’t. But you don’t either,” Tim said, not pulling the punch.

“You’re calling me stupid?!”

“No body armour, no combat training, no superpowers, no pack, and you’re trying to fight crime in _Gotham?_ Yeah, you’re being stupid. I know Batman has warned you off but you haven’t quit.”

“I’ll quit when my father quits.”

“Figured. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. If you’re not going to quit, and you’re not going to be _stupid,_ then you need to fix the things that make this stupid. The superpowers you probably can’t do anything about, but the other three, you gotta. You need training, you need gear, and you need a pack.”

“Sure, Macaw, tell me about all the crime fighting packs that want to let in Cluemaster’s _stupid_ daughter,” Stephanie snapped. “You’ll have to write down the list for me because my hands are tied.”

Tim grinned. “Well, really I can only think of two. There’s the Birds of Prey... and then there’s us.”

Stephanie didn’t say anything for a moment, her eyes wide, then they narrowed. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. I mean, obviously I don’t control who the Birds let in, but I can make the introduction if you want it. And for us, I don’t control that either, Batman would decide, of course, but I happen to know that ‘refuses to quit even though it’s stupid not to’ is basically a requirement for our pack.”

From down below, a voice said through a megaphone, “We have the place surrounded! Freeze, drop your weapons, and put your hands up!”

Stephanie wasn’t saying anything yet.

Tim waited a moment, then took the pouch of dark blue spandex he still had in his hand and tucked a card into it in an obvious way. “Okay. Well, your dad’s gonna be back in jail for a bit, so you have a little time to think about it. My contact info is on here, but it may be a little bit of time before I can respond, depending on how busy I am.”

With that, he used the return button to run the automatic unwind of the restraints around Stephanie and held out the mask with the card inside.

She took the mask and darted off without saying anything.

——

Tim thought that Damian might balk at an addition to the pack, but he was the only one to accept the idea instantly.

“She may be just an ordinary beta,” Damian said, “but since the pack is so unbalanced with alphas she will be better than nothing.”

“‘Just an ordinary beta?’ Isn’t your mother a beta?” said Jason.

“She’s not _ordinary,”_ Damian snapped. “She is _Talia al Ghul._ And your future pack mother, so show respect.”

Jason laughed, which made Damian’s little shoulders even tighter with anger. “How about you pop a knot before you start trying to take over the pack, baby bat?”

“I don’t need to pop a knot to kill you, Todd.”

“Oooh, is it my turn to be the one you repeatedly fail to kill?”

“Jason,” said Tim, and put his hands soothingly on Damian’s upper back, rubbing his shoulders and neck and marking the boy with his omega scent, “don’t tease the pup.”

Jason laughed again but he left, and Damian let Tim pull him in closer and kiss the top of his head, with only a little “Tt” for form’s sake.

——

Batman and his pack crowded around in the front room of the Cluemaster’s dingy basement apartment, where his sixteen year old daughter was sat on a hard-sided suitcase. There was no other furniture.

“Pawned everything for his lawyer,” Stephanie explained, looking embarrassed as she fidgeted against the ridges on the suitcase. “Everything that’s mine is in this suitcase.”

“When your father is in custody,” Batman said, “what happens to you?”

“When I was younger I had to go into foster care. Now that I’m sixteen and confirmed beta, I’m on my own. Some lady at the courthouse gave me a pamphlet with a list of shelters. She circled the two she said were the safest.” She looked around her. “Rent is paid for this month, and I figure it’ll take the landlord at least another few weeks after I don’t pay next month to actually get the eviction order.”

“Hm. Then I suppose no one will be tracking where you go.”

“Tracking me? Not unless some no-good dirtbag connected to my father gets the dumb idea that I might have access to something they think they’re owed. That’s happened before.”

“It won’t happen this time. Macaw believes you could be a good addition to our pack,” Batman said, and Stephanie clutched at her own hands like a beauty pageant contestant who’s in the final two. “I haven’t had a Batgirl for some time. I expect you to work hard in training and to obey the commands of the alphas of the pack in the field at all times.”

“Sure, I can do that,” Stephanie said, while Macaw was feeling a little stung that Batman had specified that she needed to obey the _alphas_ in the field. Was Macaw really never going to get a chance to lead an operation?

“Then welcome to the pack, Batgirl,” Batman said. “We’ll take you home and tell you our other names.”

——

Stephanie had been astonished by their real identities, but of everything, the thing that she couldn’t seem to get over the most was that Macaw was an omega.

“I’ve only ever known one omega,” she told Tim once while they were taking a hydration break in the gym. “In foster care. We were even friends. Then, boom, she starts to have that pre-heat sickness and off she goes. She managed to find me a year later, said she’s married to some rich woman and living like a princess on some la-di-dah estate out in California with her own horses, plural, and everything. Like a fairy tale. I never kept in touch, I was too jealous... anyway. She was nice but she was kind of dumb, and you know I’m dumb so if she seemed dumb to me she must be really dumb, right?”

“For the last time, I don’t think you’re dumb,” Tim said. “I’m not saying you’re a genius, but what I meant back then was that you were _acting_ stupid.”

“Yeah, but you _are_ a genius. I thought all omegas were like her. Pretty and nothing else. I mean not that you’re not pretty, you’re very pretty, Tim.”

“Geez. You don’t have to reassure me that I’m pretty. I’m not trying to be pretty anyway,” groused Tim.

“See but that’s what I mean! You’re so different. You’re—”

“‘Not like other omegas?’” Tim filled in, and made a face.

Stephanie laughed. “Yeah, I deserved that. I’m being really sexist, right?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

“Sorry. Well, you know, you’ve changed my mind about omegas, for sure. You’re really cool, whether you’re an omega or not. You know, before I joined the pack, I had a crush on you.” Stephanie put down her sports bottle, stretched, and returned to the climbing rope.

Tim watched her climb for a moment without saying anything, feeling confused. Stephanie had had a crush on him?!

The pack was his whole life. He’d gone to online school since joining Bruce and he rarely conducted business face-to-face. A few times a year, he’d have to go with his alphas to some event as Tim Wayne and be shown off, and he knew he was an object of lust to many eyes in those events, but that was as a rare omega.

The idea of someone having a crush on _him,_ on his personality, voice, bearing? Bizarre. Inconceivable. Weird.

_You’re really cool, whether you’re an omega or not._

Tim put down his own bottle and went to the rowing machine, wanting some excuse for bright red cheeks.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the pack gets more complicated, Tim can’t understand why he feels so sad so often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Metropolis, for me, personally, is kinda-sorta Chicago in the same way that Gotham is kinda-sorta New York City, so like Gotham is in New Jersey, I shifted Metropolis into Indiana. (I understand and choose to ignore that in canon Metropolis is either in NY or fucking Delaware. No offence to Delaware, but I've been to Wilmington.)

Steph had never been in a pack before. Traditionalists bemoaned the decline of the pack in favour of an alpha-less structure some commentators disparagingly called a “nuclear family”, likening it to a single atom trying to make its way in the world and trading on the danger of the concept of nuclear weapons to make it sound threatening. Steph’s family would have surely made these commentators bang their desks in triumph: beta dad in and out of prison, beta mom dead from alcohol poisoning, and beta child trying to raise herself without any alpha figure in her life at all.

Maybe because of this, when Dr. Thompson informed Bruce that Stephanie was pregnant after her physical, Bruce merely shook his head slightly and frowned a bit. “A shame. I’ve been able to markedly improve the lives of underprivileged youth through the foundation, but it only works as far as the parents allow it to work. There ought to be more oversight of these unfit families...”

Stephanie hadn’t known she was pregnant but she wasn’t too surprised either.

“Freaking figures,” she said bitterly. “That douche. I bet he got expired condoms out of a pharmacy dumpster or something.”

“I take it you don’t want to consult him about this,” said Bruce. The pack (minus Damian) was in the drawing room—Bruce’s attempt at making things relaxed, though nobody looked relaxed. Dick, in particular, was perched in the bay window and Tim thought he constantly looked on the verge of escaping that way. Jason, who had been frowned at by Bruce for his posture, was sitting in an exaggerated parody of perfect decorum. Tim was sitting next to Steph on the couch, while Bruce took the big armchair and Alfred hovered in his near-invisible way around the periphery of the room.

“Dean? Ok, let me tell you about the last time I saw Dean. We were on a date at the mall when we had that earthquake—you remember that earthquake?”

Bruce nodded and Tim said, “Yeah, of course.”

“Ok, so the mall was shaking a little, whatever. This dude literally pushed me into a display in Hot Topic to run to the exit. As if we’d have a major earthquake in New Jersey. That was the last straw. Stupid panic I could maybe have forgiven, but somebody who shoves me into a display of Funko Pops to save his own skin isn’t anybody to raise a kid with.”

Bruce actually had his mouth go up a bit, so he was clearly warming to Stephanie. “Good thinking. You’ll want to think about your options. As pack head, I am willing to give my advice, here or privately, but I will sign off according to your wishes.”

Stephanie blinked. “Sign?”

Tim rubbed at his upper arm. “In a pack, the head alpha has the right to make medical decisions for betas and omegas. Legal right, I mean, our Alpha doesn’t do it that way...”

“I believe the infantilization of betas and omegas in the past is a direct cause of many of society’s current problems,” said Bruce.

“But you still have to sign?”

“In your new identity as Stephanie Wayne, yes. I would have to sign approval for any major medical intervention, or to allow the pup to be adopted out of the pack.”

When Bruce didn’t say anything else, Tim said, “What about if she wants to keep it?”

That certainly got everyone’s attention. His alphas all had strong emotional reactions: surprise and sympathy from Dick, surprise and admiration from Jason, and from Bruce only surprise, although Bruce kept himself so muted that it was only from long experience that Tim even got that he’d been surprised.

Steph shifted next to him in an uncomfortable way, and Bruce said, still the same formal, unbothered tone, “There’s no need for us to make any decision now. Stephanie might want to talk more with the doctor, as well.”

The meeting broke apart; Steph did give Tim a smile that expressed some kind of friendship or gratitude, so at least he was reassured that he hadn’t made her upset.

He was the only one who was upset.

Tim went to his nest without inviting any of his alphas to join him, and got himself settled in with his laptop playing _The Maltese Falcon._

He’d seen it several times so his mind wandered right back, and he let it.

Why did everyone else act like it was a _certainty_ that Steph would either choose abortion or adoption? She was sixteen, but so was Tim. They were in the same pack, which had plenty of resources to devote to a pup. Bruce and Jason were, covertly or overtly, actively trying to convince Tim to get pregnant. Dick was against it, but Tim couldn’t even imagine Dick suggesting abortion or adoption if Tim actually got pregnant from a condom failure or whatever.

Was it because Steph was so new to the pack, her loyalty not yet certain?

No, Bruce had always gone all or nothing with those he accepted into his pack. He was as intense in his focus on those he deemed his own as he was indifferent to outsiders.

Because the pup’s sire wasn’t of the pack? Because the sire was undesirable, did that make the pup automatically unwanted?

One of the things that Tim liked so much about their pack was that Bruce really thought of Dick and Jason as sons, and this hadn’t changed when he found out he had a blood relation. Tim thought they were a pack that valued higher things. Didn’t Bruce say that he was the product of two negative tens?

It was such a weird thing to say, flattering and unsettling, making Tim feel insecure and desired at the same time. It was so _Bruce,_ at least how Bruce was for Tim...

“I deserve that,” Mary Astor was saying on the screen, “but the lie was in the way I said it, not at all in what I said. It’s my own fault if you can’t believe me now.”

“Now you _are_ dangerous,” Tim murmured along with Humphrey Bogart, and turned off the film.

——

Bruce went with Tim to Dr. Thompson’s clinic to have the pelvic x-rays done.

“He’s at a Risser 4,” the doctor said, pointing to the top of the iliac crest. “That means about 75% ossification. So his growth has slowed, but not yet stopped. You may make it to 5’5” after all, Tim.”

Tim smiled, embarrassed.

“In terms of pelvimetry,” the doctor continued, “it’s an android pelvis, which is what you’d expect from an omega male, I don’t think I’ve ever seen an omega male with any other shape. See how it’s heart-shaped. An android pelvis has a relatively narrower inlet compared to other shapes. But don’t get overly hung up on that. Even among beta females, about 25% have this so-called ‘android’ pelvis. All the measurements are adequate to potentially allow vaginal birth. Keep in mind also that in pregnancy the joints and ligaments loosen. And because most omegas have multiples, each newborn tends to be smaller. I wouldn’t bother with another x-ray after this. Officially we’re supposed to recommend waiting until age twenty for pregnancy—”

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“I’m just giving the official recommendation,” she tutted. “I know how you feel about official recommendations, but at least I can be sure I’ve done my duty.”

“So, _officially,_ there’s no difference between him getting pregnant now versus eighteen?”

 _“Officially_ those would be equally discouraged.” She rolled her eyes. “Let me speak with Tim alone now.”

When Bruce left, Dr. Thompson said, “Alright, Tim, you know the drill. Anything you want to talk about privately?”

When Tim had seen Dr. Thompson the day after Bruce had punished him for the first time for forgetting to call him Alpha, Tim had come within a hair’s breadth of blurting out what was happening and asking for help to make it stop, but he had swallowed it down and said nothing. He never asked anything, actually, in these “private” times Dr. Thompson offered in his check-ups, but she kept offering them. The doctor usually made small talk when Tim failed to say anything, which he now realized was so that if Tim ever _did_ ask anything, Bruce wouldn’t know that this time was different because the private time lasted longer.

“I,” said Tim, breathed in hard, and continued, “I feel depressed.”

“I’m glad you told me,” said Dr. Thompson evenly. “I have a depression screening tool I’d like you to fill out for me, it won’t take long.”

——

In the car after, Bruce got into the driver’s seat and Tim into the front passenger seat.

“Why do you want me to get pregnant so fast but you didn’t even consider keeping Stephanie’s pup?” Tim said in a rush before he could lose the nerve.

Bruce turned on the ignition. “The two situations are not comparable. Like it or not, it is impossible to completely prevent a pup’s other genetic parent from learning of its existence and wishing to be involved. It’s not even unreasonable for him to want to be involved. It will be a permanent connection between Stephanie and him, and thus between our pack and him. And it would be a very undesirable connection.”

“You’ve found out more about him.”

“Of course. Nothing dangerous. He doesn’t have the kind of nerve to be any kind of criminal. He doesn’t have the nerve to be anything worthwhile either. And he doesn’t have any kindness, generosity, creativity...”

“Why did Steph ever get involved with him then?”

“He is fairly good looking, and while his parents don’t have much money, they allow him to spend without responsibility. I think Stephanie never meant it to be more than amusement.”

“I see.” Put like that, it did make sense, sort of. After all, Steph had a pretty unstable life, he must have seemed like a good distraction.

“If someday Stephanie finds a partner she wishes to breed with,” Bruce said, “and to bring them into the pack, that would be a completely different thing. I hope you know I am not the kind of head alpha who expects to sire every pup in the pack.”

“I do know that,” Tim said, “that was why I was troubled.”

Bruce gave him a brief sidelong smile. “You have strong instincts, Tim. It’s a good thing. I have strong instincts too. That’s why you and I are... well, we’re both detectives, aren’t we.”

Tim smiled as an answer and then leaned back in his seat, looking out the window.

_Feeling bad about yourself, that you are a failure or that you are letting yourself or your pack down._

  1. _Never, or hardly ever_

  2. _Sometimes_

  3. _Most of the time_

  4. _All, or almost all of the time ✓_




——

“Robin, why aren’t you in position?”

“Tt. Nobody is watching Macaw’s back otherwise.”

“Oracle is watching Macaw’s back,” Jason said into the comms, “via an intercepted camera feed. There is no camera feed at the location you were assigned, so you need to go back to it.”

There was a long silence, and then Jason spoke again.

“Alright, Robin, let’s try this again. I’m gonna say, ‘Robin, why aren’t you in position?’ and you’re gonna answer, ‘I’m getting back into position,’ and I’m gonna say ‘fine.’ Otherwise, I am going to come to your current position and beat you with the lead pipe in my coat. That will definitely alert Black Mask’s goons, and ruin the mission, but the mission is gonna go tango unicorn anyway if you’re not taking orders, so I might as well enjoy myself. You got it, Robin?”

More silence. Tim bit his glove to keep from laughing.

“Robin, why aren’t you in position?”

“I’m getting back into position,” a sulky voice replied over the comms.

“Fine.”

It was always fun, working with Jason. This was the first time that Tim had worked with just Jason and Damian. Batman was off doing Justice League business but had given them the order remotely that there was a load of counterfeit medicines that were going to be moving through this warehouse. Black market suppressants were a terrible problem. The real stuff was so expensive that the black market “stepped up” by providing diluted versions that didn’t work.

Jason, with a beanie pulled down and a very convincing fake nose, was posing as a buyer, and once he was assured that Robin was in place, he moved in to meet the contact.

The job went well. Jason gave the signal when he was sure that the goods were there. Oracle contacted the GCPD, and when they showed, Jason fled via Macaw’s exit where Tim had the enjoyment of planting a great jab with his bo staff to Jason’s solar plexus before “accidentally” letting him slip past.

All in all, a very successful evening’s work.

And yet.

They went back to the manor in the backseat of Jason’s ordinary “burner” car with tinted windows but no other modifications. Jason had his disguise off, bits of spirit gum still visible on his nose like a skin condition.

Damian insisted that Tim should sit in the middle seat of the back as it was the safest seat. Certainly not because this allowed Damian to doze against Tim on the way back to the manor.

“You even make the demon brat look cute,” Jason said when it was evident that Damian was really asleep. They’d been taking a circuitous route around Gotham’s traffic to make sure they didn’t have a tail before they headed back to the manor.

“He’s never been allowed to be cute,” Tim said, smiling down at the pup with his domino mask askew and moving gently with the boy’s breaths. “He’s Alpha’s pup, of course he’s cute if he’s allowed to be.”

“Bruce? Cute?!”

Tim kept his laugh down, not wanting to wake the pup. “Well. I don’t think Alpha’s allowed himself to be cute for a long time either.”

“Hm.” They made eye contact in the rear-view mirror for a moment. “You should text Alfred and let him know we have a sleeping pup in the back seat who has to be up tomorrow for a hard day in the fifth grade.”

Tim made a soft amused noise and complied.

Once they got back to the cave and made the hand-off to Alfred (waiting with Damian’s pajamas to escort the pup to wash, change, brush his teeth, and sleep), Jason said, “Can I shower with you?”

Even though he felt only sweet affection from Jason’s end, Tim mentally appended _Can I fuck you and sleep in your nest tonight?_ to the end of the question anyway. But it wasn’t like it changed his answer. “Sure.”

Jason wasn’t erect even when he undressed and got into Tim’s waterfall style shower, ahead of Tim, whose costume was a little slower to properly undo and remove. He set to washing his face first off, which Tim couldn’t blame him for.

When Tim did get in, Jason made room for him to step under the downpour of water.

“You’ve been sad lately,” Jason said while Tim was standing in the shower with his eyes closed.

It gave him a little time to think how he would respond. The continued, steady affection, that hadn’t changed from earlier, made him feel a little sick, a little guilty, at how he had automatically assumed that Jason just wanted to fuck.

“It’s not your fault,” Tim said when he moved out from under the water to reach for body wash. “I talked to Dr. Thompson about it. I’m gonna get some help.”

“Hm,” said Jason, neutral, switching places with Tim to rinse while Tim soaped up.

“It’s dumb, I know it’s dumb,” Tim said into the hushed environment of the water hitting the tile. “I have everything, I shouldn’t be depressed, and I know—”

“Hey.” Jason suddenly pulled out of the water and took hold of Tim, arresting him in the process of scrubbing his chest. “You have plenty to be depressed about. You have three of the most demanding alphas there’s got to be on the goddamn planet, you had shitty parents who are either literally or practically dead, and you have no friends outside the pack. Why wouldn’t you be depressed?”

Tim looked down. There was a fine layer of lacy bubbles all over his torso, and his nipples were perking up in the relative cold of being outside the water. Suddenly he couldn’t help but think about how much Jason always was harping on his “boobs” and reddened, before struggling to shift his mind back onto what Jason had said. “Well. I mean. I don’t know—I don’t really miss—it’s not like my parents—Bruce took me in, and... and...”

“And made you suck his cock,” Jason supplied, succinct and unvarnished.

“He’s my alpha,” Tim said, looking up into Jason’s eyes, and finding their intensity hard to maintain a gaze with, flitted away to the wet tendrils of black hair. “I wanted it... you were there, you know.”

“Yeah. I know. I was there. I was thirteen and it seemed like a good idea at the time. These past few months, I’ve been wondering if Bruce is really taking care of you like he ought to.”

“Jason,” Tim said, his voice dropping in volume without any conscious decision to do so, “he’s _our_ alpha, you can’t—I’m gonna be fine, he didn’t—there’s nothing—”

Jason took one hand off of Tim’s shoulders and moved it up to Tim’s wet hair, tucking a tendril behind the omega’s ear. “You’ve been taking care of us all for so long. You were so young, younger than Damian is now, the first time you sucked my cock, baby.”

Tim shivered. _From the cold, from the cold._ Jason wordlessly moved like a waltz with Tim, shifting him back under the water, giving Tim a moment to let it warm him and wash things away.

When Tim stepped back out, he said, “I know Bruce wouldn’t have done it if there was another way. You know that too, right?”

“Yeah,” Jason said, begrudging but nodding.

“I want to be your omega, the pack omega. Everything’s going so much better for everyone now, isn’t it?”

Jason half-smiled. “Well, it is, baby, but I can’t just ignore that _you’re_ unhappy. I don’t want that.”

Tim smiled back, and grabbed onto Jason, let the alpha come down to meet his kiss. When it broke, he said, “I’m gonna get over this, Jason. I promise, the doctor is gonna help me get, like, meds, or whatever, and I’m gonna be fine. I love you. I love all of you, and what we do—I love this pack. It’s the only pack for me. This depression _isn’t_ me. Deep down, I’m already happy, I’m sure of it—I just have to scrape this crap away so I can _feel_ happy.”

Jason sighed and leaned his forehead down against Tim’s. Suddenly Tim felt a wave of _love_ from the bond, love and satisfaction and a strong desire to protect, and it was more warming that the water cascading down his back.

They got out of the shower and didn’t dress or do anything beyond some haphazard rubs with towels before they were in Tim’s nest, Tim crying out as Jason sucked a lovebite into Tim’s neck while his cock rapidly hardened between Tim’s thighs.

“Baby,” Jason groaned when he got his cock inside Tim at last, “want to make you so happy, Timmy—”

“It’s not you—” Tim tried to protest but Jason put a hand over his mouth.

“It _is_ me, it’s _us,_ if you’re not happy, we should be helping you fix it, not ignoring it... ahhh, oh baby, baby, baby, fuck, baby, you make me so goddamn happy. You have no idea. You’re the whole moon and stars to us, baby, fuck.”

Tim mewled as Jason shifted to jerky little thrusts coupled with passionate kisses.

“Want you happy,” Jason managed between kisses and bites, “want you _so_ happy, baby, fuck, my genius little baby, nobody should be happier than you. So sweet with your pup, with your alphas. Who’s gonna be sweet for you, huh?”

It should be helping, and it wasn’t like Tim didn’t _like_ the love and adoration he was getting from Jason, but it was all crusted over with this sour panic that he couldn’t _make_ himself be happy for his alphas.

“I’m sorry,” Tim choked out and squirmed beneath Jason because he could feel Jason’s cock relentlessly tormenting that secret place inside.

“I won’t give up. It’s okay, God, baby, it’s okay, fuck, we’ll find it out, okay? Always—fuck—love you so much, gonna help you, ‘cause you’re mine—”

“Jason!” Tim wailed as he came around the rapid swell of Jason’s knot.

In the quiet high afterward, Jason murmured promises into Tim’s hair and temples.

“Promise. I’ll help. Whatever you need, baby. I’ll think of what you need, if you can’t figure it out. I’ll help you. I’ll make you happy.”

——

“Tim should come with me to Metropolis,” Jason said at dinner, and everyone momentarily stopped eating.

Everyone except Bruce, who continued cutting his steak. “You can get by without him for a week.”

“Sure, _I_ can,” Jason said, “but _Tim_ hasn’t left Gotham for years. Not since he’s been in the pack, anyway. He needs a change of scenery.”

“Going to Metropolis to work with Young Justice isn’t a vacation,” Bruce said when he swallowed his piece of steak.

“I’d like to go,” Tim cut in, “I could help too, as Macaw, I mean. I would like to. And to see Metropolis.”

“In February? There’s nothing to see in Indiana in February. There’s nothing worth flying to see the rest of the year, either, but there’s definitely nothing to see in February.”

“I like snow,” said Tim. “And don’t say we have snow here. We do, but it’s not like in the midwest. And anyway there are things to see...” Tim paused. “The... Bean? I could see the Bean.”

Jason snickered. “Yeah, Connor could fly you over the Bean.”

Bruce’s mouth downturned a centimeter for just over a second. “Quite.”

“Please, Alpha, I’d love to go,” Tim said.

“Don’t let him, Father. With Todd gone, Timothy is more needed here.”

“I think if Timmy wants to go he should go,” said Dick, smiling at Tim. “Not that I won’t miss ya, baby bird. But it’s only, what, two weeks? We’ve all left him here in Gotham longer than that. It’s his turn to go somewhere.”

Stephanie, seated next to Tim, didn’t say anything, of course, but she gave him a supportive smile as she buttered a roll.

“What about Steph’s childbirth classes?” Bruce said.

“I can go by myself for just one time,” Steph said.

“I’ll drive her,” Dick volunteered. “I’ll even go in, if Steph doesn’t mind. Can’t hurt to learn about helping someone give birth, right?”

Bruce sighed, then smiled a little at Damian’s little frown. “Well, it’s only two weeks, and Jason is capable of watching out for you, I know. Damian, we’ll have to do without our omega for a little while.”

“It’s not like _I_ need an omega,” Damian protested hotly, and stabbed a piece of broccoli with his fork.

“You sure don’t,” Jason said under his breath, and Tim kicked him under the table.

“Just make sure you don’t allow those _metas_ to take any liberties,” Damian said louder than necessary.

Tim put a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth quickly to hide his discomfort with how quickly Damian had adapted Bruce’s hostility to metahumans. While Tim was sure that Bruce didn’t mean it as bigotry, only as resistance to the idea that only metahumans were capable of being heroes, their pup was vulnerable right now to all kinds of things taking root.

“Connor and Bart? Bart’s a beta and Connor is...” Jason rolled his eyes and made a vague gesture with one hand. “Alien-clone-whatever. He doesn’t have heats or ruts, anyway, from what he’s told me, so I guess he’s basically a beta.”

“As if only alphas would want _our_ omega,” said Damian proudly, and that made Bruce’s smile widen.

“Very right, Damian. But don’t worry. It’s not just Jason, you know. Our Tim knows who he belongs to.”

That night, though Bruce didn’t ask for it, Tim gave him oral as foreplay.

“When you come back,” Bruce said as he fucked Tim’s face, “you’ll be due for a heat, won’t you. Will you let us pup you, Tim? Pup you full? Carry a litter for us?”

With his mouth full of Bruce’s cock, Tim didn’t have to reply, and when the alpha switched to mounting him, he didn’t repeat the question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rattles tin cup* Comments, for the poor (author)?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim goes to Metropolis and has a very interesting conversation with another omega.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope my readers understand this is not so much "Batman - All Media Types" fanfic as it is "Batman - Half-Remembered Feelings About the Batman Cartoons and Movies From My Youth and Projected Trauma Also From My Youth" fanfic. I spelled Connor as Connor because I don't like the spelling Conner, and that is also the attitude I had to DC canon(s). If I liked something, I kept it, if I didn't like it, I ignored it, and freely substituted something I liked better.
> 
> Trigger warning: There is mention of unethical medical experimentation on children.

“And would your omega like anything?” the flight attendant said politely.

“You can talk to him directly,” Jason said, distracted by his phone.

Tim gave the flight attendant a strained smile to show that he understood why the flight attendant did that. Many packs, even today, didn’t allow strange alphas to talk to their omegas; to do so without permission was very rude. “I’ll take the fruit and cheese box, please, and a bottle of water.”

“Absolutely, sir.”

Tim leaned on his elbow and looked out the window at the clouds. He hadn’t flown on a plane since he was... six? Something very young, he barely remembered it. He’d had an ear infection and the pain of the altitude change had made him cry and cry, causing quite a scene in first class.

“Never again, do you hear me?!” he remembered his mother hissing at his father, and after that he was left with staff in Gotham whenever his parents were traveling.

Tim worked his jaw a little to pop the pressure in his ears, thinking about his father. He’d been transferred, when his condition stabilized and he was diagnosed as “minimally conscious”, to a hospital in Philadelphia—not Gotham, of course, because nobody with any money would want to be held for a long-term condition in one of Gotham’s hospitals; villains hit them too often.

Bruce had driven him down to see Jack just recently, before Christmas. Tim had gone in alone, as usual. He brought a poinsettia as a gift to sit on the nightstand.

Jack could open his eyes now, in response to a voice, and look at him, though the eyes stared blankly; he made noises, sometimes, which was more frightening than reassuring.

Tim hadn’t told him that he was an omega, much less that he’d been marked by all the alphas of the Wayne pack.

He had sat next to his father and told him that Drake Industries’ stock price was projected to finish the year two points above the previous.

“Uhhh-ahhh,” Jack had said.

Suddenly Tim felt his hand being squeezed. He looked away from the window at Jason.

“What’s up?” Jason said. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing really. I just started thinking about my father. I don’t know why.”

“Oh, yeah... you went to see him... last month?”

“In December.” Tim shifted in his seat. “He was about the same. He doesn’t... seem to recognize me. I’m not sure if he does. He makes noises when I say things, but he makes the same noises when the nurses or doctors talk. He doesn’t... like, if you try to ask questions. Blink once for yes, you know, or make a noise for yes... it doesn’t work.”

“God. Horrible.” Jason rubbed Tim’s hand. “You want to distract yourself? We could talk or do something. Or if you want to watch something or read, whatever, I won’t stop you.”

Tim would have liked to ask more questions about Young Justice and the problem that Corvid and Macaw were joining Superboy and Impulse to solve, but he couldn’t do so on a commercial flight. “Deep dish pizza: yes or no?”

“Oh my God,” Jason laughed. “It’s a casserole. And the thin crust is a cracker. It all sucks. Thanks for the reminder, I’m gonna tell Connor right to his stupid face when we get off the plane. Then he’s gonna try to pull that bullshit where he says he’s really from Kansas, and I’m going to tell him that Pizza Hut comes from Kansas.”

——

Superboy—Connor Luthor—was _massive._ It’s not just that he was slightly taller than Jason, it’s that he was built like the proverbial brick shithouse.

Tim has seen how Superman acts and dresses as his civilian identity to hide his power. Connor emphatically was not doing that. It wasn’t just how he carried himself that grabbed attention. There were spikes on his leather jacket, neon blue fingerless gloves on his hands, a ring through his smirking lower lip and more in his right ear, eyeliner around his bright blue eyes.

Everyone in Metropolis International Airport baggage claim was staring or trying hard _not_ to stare at him, so if the idea was for Jason and Tim to arrive lowkey, that’s not what’s happened.

“I’m not really from Metropolis,” Connor said with a soft, slight drawl—not exactly southern, but it’s something to the south of Indiana, that’s for sure, and it set a charming contrast to his intimidating appearance. “I was born here but I grew up in Kansas.”

Jason smacked Tim’s shoulder triumphantly. “Yeah, Kansas, famous for its great pizza, home of the original Pizza Hut.”

Connor’s smirk got a little wider. “You trying to show off what an asshole you are in front of your mate?”

“He already knows,” Jason said carelessly, throwing an arm around Tim’s shoulder.

“I’m sure Bart’s already grabbed your bags and is waiting at the car,” Connor said. “Shall we go?”

Tim glanced at Jason. “Already—but they haven’t even called baggage claim for our flight—”

Connor and Jason both laughed at him, and Tim reddened as he realized what a stupid thing to say that was. A speedster like Impulse could whisk past all security and grab the baggage the moment the plane cargo bay opened without anyone noticing.

——

Bart wriggled through the open window of the car and launched himself into Jason’s arms, much to Tim’s shock, which wasn’t abated by how Jason whirled him around like a swing dancer. “Jason! Great to see you! Missed you!”

“You saw me two weeks ago,” Jason laughed.

“Seems like a long time. Ages!” Bart let himself drop out of Jason’s arms and turned to Tim. “So you’re Tim! Wild! We were teasing Jason that you were just a hologram, and that was why he never let us meet—”

“Let’s get in the car,” Connor said, crossing in front of the hood.

“You know it’s Bruce that wouldn’t let him out of Gotham,” Jason said once they were in and pulling away. “He’s a weird kind of protective. He lets Tim do whatever he wants—Bruce just has to be watching.”

Connor gave them both a sly look in the mirror. “Watching, huh? Kinky.”

“Ugh. Jealous virgins,” Jason said, not sounding all that bothered.

“I’m not jealous!” protested Bart while Connor laughed, “Virgin?”

“Bart, we gotta find you somebody who doesn’t mind quickies,” Jason said.

“So what are we in Metropolis for?” Tim said. It wasn’t that banter offended him—it was a lot like how Dick and Jason teased each other—but he didn’t _know_ Connor or Bart, and Tim wasn’t the kind of person who could enter into that kind of talk with people he didn’t know.

Organized crime and weapons smuggling—even worse than usual, because these particular smugglers weren’t just selling ordinary weapons under the table to people who couldn’t legally buy guns. This was serious firepower, major op level. And Superman was out of Metropolis and Superboy didn't want to call him back.

Tim and Jason had flown commercial under their real names and they were staying in a major four star hotel that befit the Wayne reputation. Connor loitered around the wall by the door while Bart immediately went and jumped ass-first onto the king-sized bed.

“This is sweet!” the speedster crowed at Jason, throwing his arms crossed behind his head.

“At least take your goddamn shoes off,” Jason said.

“We got nothing to do til dark,” said Connor. “Wanna watch something?”

They all ended up crowding onto the bed while some sitcom, of all things, played on the big television on the wall.

Bart was so _tactile._ It would have surprised Tim just to see him do it with Jason and Connor, neither of whom he would have thought would be the kind to cuddle with friends, but Bart was no more hesitant to touch Tim, even though they’d just met.

To his own deep surprise, Tim found he actually liked it. They somehow settled with Tim’s head against Jason and Bart laying on his stomach with his feet on Connor.

“How’s M’gann?” said Jason at one point.

“Aaaaawesome,” said Connor, and Bart and Jason both laughed, but there was only affection in it, and Tim let his hand rest on Bart’s shoulder, something he never could have imagined the day before.

Tim didn’t pay much attention to the television. He was thinking about Bart and Connor and Jason and their dynamic, so unlike what he expected. He knew Jason for someone who was a smart aleck, yeah, but also down to business and... and strong. Standoffish, not letting anyone in.

That’s what Tim had thought. But Connor and Bart were _in._ Maybe they were in even a way that Tim wasn’t, if Tim hadn’t known it would be like this.

But Tim didn’t feel jealousy. This was... nice.

Friends.

Like him and Steph. Sort of. Not exactly.

All friends would be different, right?

Of course.

It was a relief to be around another male hero who was short, like him...

Maybe it was jetlag, but Tim began to get drowsy as the television continued on uninteresting things.

At some point he fell asleep, and when he woke up, he was alone in the hotel bed. Jason had left him a note.

_Sorry sleeping beauty, couldn’t bear to wake you. We’re just dealing with some ordinary thugs, nothing worth your brain, baby boy. Tomorrow you can figure out for us who’s behind everything. - J_

——

“Names with ID,” said the bouncer, bored, not really looking at them.

“They’re with me,” said Connor, taking off his sunglasses and moving to the front of their little group.

The bouncer’s eyes were sure opened then. “Yes sir, Mr. Luthor, sir.”

Connor slipped his sunglasses into his shirt pocket and they moved in. The music was so loud, painfully loud, almost, especially paired with the lights and powerful pheromones being emitted from a club packed full of people trying to get attention. Tim was glad for Jason’s hand leading his.

“80s night, huh? Well his music taste is still good,” Connor shout-talked back to them, and sang along:

_Those who came before me  
Lived through their vocations  
From the past until completion  
They’ll turn away no more  
And I still find it so hard  
To say what I need to say_

_“But I’m quite that you’ll tell me just how I should feel today_ _,”_ Bart sang along with Connor. They were going down, spatially, back and down.

“Which VIP room is he in?” Connor asked another bouncer blocking a door.

“Who?”

Connor laughed. The bouncer flinched and recoiled as Connor laid one finger on his lapel.

“Your dam’s in #1,” the bouncer quickly corrected himself.

Connor’s shifted the bouncer to the side with seemingly no force, but the panelling cracked on the wall. “Thanks bud.”

_Now I stand here waiting_

But they weren’t waiting for anything. Connor opened the door to number one and they all went in, Tim with Jason at his back.

The music in here wasn’t quite so overwhelming, though the walls were still pulsing with that from the floor. Holding court in the VIP room was the man they had come to see: Lex Luthor, in an impeccable suit, his infamous bald head glinting.

“The Orgy cover is better than the original,” Connor said instead of any greeting.

The people around Luthor—very glamorous young men and women—shifted uneasily.

“Take your drinks, I need to speak with my son,” Luthor told them, and as hands grabbed for glasses and bottles, he continued, “It’s not better, it’s just louder. No subtlety. Come, sit, introduce me.”

The people who had been with him left and the door closed behind Jason.

“You really want me to go through the motions?” Connor said, and when Luthor smiled, he sighed, but he took a seat, and so did the rest of them. “Bart Allen of the Allen pack. Jason Todd of the Wayne pack. Timothy Wayne of the Wayne Pack. Connor Luthor of the Kent pack, you may remember me, you gave birth to me.”

Luthor laughed and took a drink from a champagne flute.

“Bart, Tim, Jason, this is my dam, Lex Luthor, of the Luthor pack.”

“I knew those Kents taught you good manners,” Luthor said, still relaxed and seemingly pleased. “What brings you here? Don’t get my hopes up that you missed me.”

“That’s beside the point,” said Connor, a little bitter, a little proud, and Lex’s smile dimmed a little. “We figured out that you’re funding the Calabrese’s weapons smuggling, and I figured the quickest way to stop you is to come here and say please.”

Luthor chuckled, playing with a signet ring. “Well. Without regard to how you actually intended to stop me, how about we make a deal.”

“Terms?”

“I can transfer to your phone all the details about the warehouses, the routes, etc, and while you and your usual suspects are clearing them out, you leave the Wayne Omega here to speak with me. Just to speak. I can assure you that no harm will befall him.”

“Why do you want to talk to Tim that bad?”

“From one omega to another, he interests me,” Luthor said, looking at Tim directly now. “Besides, the Calabrese business really has no profit left for me. Though I have to say that I’m impressed you figured out the connection.”

“I’d be interested to talk to him too,” said Tim, which was true. How could he not be?

——

“I hope you know I intend to ask questions too,” Tim said when Connor, Bart, and Jason—Jason begrudgingly—had left.

“Wouldn’t expect otherwise. Would you like something to drink?”

“No. Also, if you want to ask me anything about Connor, I don’t really know anything.”

Luthor hit a button. “A bottle of Hildon and two glasses.” He released the button. “In case you change your mind about having something to drink.”

“I’m only sixteen.”

Luthor smiled. “Hildon is mineral water, Tim. May I call you Tim?”

“I guess. What do I call you? Mr. Luthor?”

“Please do. Out of curiosity, what do you use? Goodo, I’m presuming.”

It was the traditional prefix for mated omegas—a contraction of _goodomega,_ like Goody from _goodwife_. The term of address for an unmated omega of either sex was _Childe,_ but Tim was aware that Luthor had famously refused to ever answer to it. “Yes, well, it does make things clearer in Wayne Enterprises.”

“Goodo Wayne...” said Luthor as if deeply considering something, and set down his empty champagne flute.

The bottle and the glasses got there fast and then they were alone again. Luthor unscrewed the cap and poured a glass. The set-up looked clean enough, so Tim gestured that Luthor could pour another glass and then took the first one that the man poured.

“Cautious,” said Luthor, picking up the other glass, taking a sip, and then setting it beside him. “Do you know there was a time when I seriously considered becoming Goodo Wayne?”

Tim shook his head, genuinely surprised.

“Well. I had refused to be shunted off onto another pack from the beginning,” Luthor said. “My parents thought they finally had a ticket into wealth through me, but they ended up being my ticket. By the time I made it to twenty-three, LexCorp was already becoming embarrassingly successful. So my sister suggested, why not join up with an alpha who has no interest in his own massive business holdings? Even at sixteen, Bruce Wayne had a reputation that stretched far past Metropolis. I wasn’t interested in Bruce, but the idea of controlling both LexCorp and Wayne Industries... that _was_ interesting. Extremely interesting.” A broad, wicked smile. “Unfortunately, despite his famous promiscuity, Bruce would never give me a chance. He wasn’t exactly diplomatic about it, either. I’m sure if you check the society columns from back then you can find some very catty accounts.”

“Society columns,” Tim scoffed, and the conversation passed very naturally into the headache, and yet the necessity, of maintaining a decent presence in the media outside of strictly business articles.

Lex Luthor was a charming man. Tim was on his guard, was continuously reminding himself to be on his guard, but a man didn’t get to where Lex was without strong charisma, and Tim, unfortunately, had very little direct experience at withstanding it in person.

They talked.

——

“You always have to walk that line between diversifying and spreading yourself too thin too fast,” said Tim and popped another potato chip into his mouth. Luthor had asked for an unopened bag, with a laughing, charming nod to Tim’s admirable caution.

“Indeed,” said Luthor, refilling his glass of water again. “But diversifying is not only a hedge against risk. You have to consider, when you spread into a new business area, not where that industry is now, but where it will be in ten, twenty years. That’s the advantage of a start-up: you’re not hampered by existing capital structures, existing manufacturing, you know. A lot of business is, ‘we have a factory that can make widgets very fast—how do we get people to keep buying widgets, because we’ve invested millions in this factory.’”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes increasing demand works, of course. But when you find that true unfilled demand—that’s the diamond. Medical and military research is so exciting for that reason. So many unfilled demands.”

“Yeah,” repeated Tim, a little more uneasy, but trying not to show it.

“It’s curious to me that Wayne shut down their biomedical division. I mean it was a gain for me, because I was able to hire up a lot of talent. But why would he do it?”

“I wasn’t part of Wayne Enterprises back then.”

Luthor chuckles. “No, naturally, you were... what was it, let’s see, five years ago... eleven? And your official hire was when you were thirteen, I remember reading the article in Businessweek: ‘Pup Genius,’ I believe the headline said something like that. Of course, if they had known you were not only thirteen but an omega, I could only imagine the coverage would have been very different. I don’t blame you for keeping that a secret as long as you could. You know, I’m sure, the kind of news coverage I’ve had to deal with.”

“Well... I wasn’t presented then, yet, anyway, so I was still a pup.”

“Not presented, of course. That would have been a very early presentation... you probably didn’t have to keep it hidden that long, then.”

“When did you present?” Tim said, not interested in the answer per se but wanting to cut off being questioned for a break.

“The first signs? Well, of course, my testes and penis never really grew like it ‘should’ have, if I were going to be even a beta.” Luthor spoke so frankly, and only smiled when Tim reddened at this blatant terminology. “I think I was fourteen when I realized my balls were receding and shrinking, that’s when I knew and came to terms with that I was not a late bloomer. I kept it to myself, however, and would have kept it to myself longer, except I did not anticipate just how... well, you know how an unmedicated heat without a mate is. Refreshing, to talk to someone else who knows that.”

Tim did not know what to say. He had never had a heat without a mate, without his mates fucking him as often as he needed it. The closest he could come to imagining it was how it had been in those first minutes of his first heat, or those times that Bruce teased him for a few minutes. If that was burning hell, then a whole heat must be...

“Sorry, I don’t mean to embarrass you,” Luthor said. “You must think me an old pervert, interested in a pup’s first heat.”

Tim couldn’t reply to that either.

“It’s just that there are so few omegas that I get to really talk to like this, about things that _matter,_ you know? There are so few omegas in the first place nowadays. That’s part of why I was _personally_ disappointed that Wayne stopped all that research into omega development, even if it was good for my business.”

“I don’t think...” Tim started, stopped himself, but then started again, because damn, this was something he did want to know. “He was researching omega development?”

“Oh of course. You have to know how much research there is into helping people transition dynamics, don’t you? It’s the next level—far more difficult than sex reassignment therapies and surgeries, but the potential... you want to talk about unfilled desires, my God, there’s no market more untapped. Do you know how many people out there want to be omegas? Millions and millions. Nobody’s come up with a efficacious treatment yet to transition adults from one dynamic to another. And Wayne had some really promising leads—I know because I’ve got the same people investigating them on my payroll now.”

“You mean like... treatment for dynamic dysphoria?” Tim said, unable to care that it was coming off as dumb. His mind was chasing several different thoughts at once.

“Just the two of us, that’s the cover story,” Luthor said without shame. “But that’s not where all the _demand_ comes from, is it. Plenty of wealthy packs want more omega very badly. That’s the other reason why I was surprised Wayne let all those people go. Surely Wayne knows that I have them researching how to make pups present as omega? I would have thought that Batman and his pack would take as dim a view about that as I know Superman does.”

Tim wanted to toss the glass of mineral water in his smirking bald face. He felt like a fool. He’d been sitting and chatting with this man as if he wasn’t an absolutely amoral villain. “You’re—you call molesting pups research?!”

Luthor raised his eyebrows. “Molesting—that old wives’ tale? _That_ doesn’t work. Why would it, anyway? What’s the mechanism of action?”

“Plenty of treatments with poorly understood mechanism of action,” Tim managed, feeling like he was going to sick himself right over Luthor’s leather shoes.

“Yeah, treatments with records of efficacy. Sexually abusing children doesn’t do shit except spread STIs and cause mental illness. Millions of pups all over the world getting abused, don’t tell me you have’t seen the statistics. They’re not presenting as omegas.” Luthor seemed genuinely puzzled for a moment, then a little sneer appeared on his face. “Oh, I see. It’s because I’m a villain to you, so all my actions are really motivated by maximum cruelty.”

“You’re still experimenting on children by your own admission.”

“We take blood samples, analyze DNA, measure hormones, try different pharmaceuticals. I’m not going to try to shit you that it’s ethical, because the parents are desperate for money and they don’t know what we’re really...” His voice slowed down before he trailed off, and he kept staring at Tim in the silence before he suddenly spoke again. “You were _really_ convinced that was what I was doing.”

Tim stood up. “I want to go—I’m going back to my hotel.”

“You’re not a prisoner,” Luthor said, but Tim was already going, fumbling at the door handle and rushing out, and almost running smack into Jason.

“Hey,” Jason said, catching him. “You alright?”

“Just get me out of here,” Tim said, too grateful Jason was there to question why he wasn’t chasing Luthor’s leads with Bart and Connor.

——

Jason had lingered behind, too suspicious of Luthor to leave the area, but Luthor’s VIP room was too soundproofed for him to eavesdrop.

“I want to go home,” Tim told Jason in the darkness. It had to be eleven, local time.

“Okay, we’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

“I don’t want to sleep here, I want to leave _now._ There... oh, there’s no commercial flights leaving now.”

“That’s okay,” said Jason, “Bruce had a WE jet moved to Metropolis for us just in case. If you really wanna go, we can be on it in an hour.”

——

Even though they came back earlier than they said they would, Tim didn’t really expect to surprise Bruce. I mean, this was _Batman._ He fully expected to see the man right at the door when they walked in.

But Bruce wasn’t there. Not even Alfred was. The manor was quiet.

“Do you feel them?” Jason asked Tim.

“Dick’s not here,” Tim said, straining, “I think, at least, I don’t feel him. But I feel Bruce. I think... I think he’s asleep.”

“Wow.” Jason turned the locks and rearmed the front door security. “Huh. We’re... actually going to take him by surprise?”

“I guess he might have been asleep already when our plans changed,” Tim pointed out. “It would have been after midnight, eastern time.”

“Hmm, true.” Jason yawned. “Well, I’m beat. I’m going to my room.”

When Tim got to his room, however, he could feel that Bruce was inside. Tim used all of his training to open the door soundlessly and saw Bruce, curled up inside Tim’s nest, one of Tim’s costumes inside out in his arms.

There was very little light and Tim cautiously turned on his cell phone light, shining it at the ground, just to get a better look.

Asleep like this, Bruce’s square jaw, the sharp lines of his face and the breadth of his body, weren’t exactly softened, but the contrast was nevertheless endearing. Like seeing a lion asleep. And that he was in Tim’s nest, holding Tim’s costume? Inside-out, so that the scent wouldn’t be blocked?

That was really cute.

Getting Bruce unawares couldn’t last, and it didn’t. The great alpha stirred, grimaced, and cracked open his eyes.

“Alpha,” said Tim, and Bruce let go of the costume and turned with nothing but an unalloyed happiness.

“Tim?” Bruce said, and then Tim could feel him start to close off, hard. “Oh. Tim. This must be confusing for you...”

“Alpha,” interrupted Tim, and then “Alpha,” again, softer than ever. He was still in all his clothes, but he crawled into his nest anyway, crawled right on top of Bruce and laid a kiss on that face that was pretending to be so stony. “It’s okay to miss me, Alpha, I missed you too. So much.”

“Tim.” Bruce grabbed onto him, firm, holding the back of the omega’s head still, so he couldn’t draw back to look at his alpha’s face, but it was okay. Tim understood, he was sure he understood. Especially when Bruce said, in the dark, in the quiet, just for Tim, “I did miss you.”

“You can come in my nest,” Tim told Bruce’s neck, nuzzling in closer. “Anytime you want. Whether I’m here or not. It’s yours as much as mine.”

“Oh, my Tim,” Bruce sighed, and almost as one organism they shifted together, rearranging the blankets and cushions to shelter both of them. “My Tim. My omega.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim is just a rollercoaster of emotions (and he doesn't believe he's on a ride at all).

Tim woke up with a startle because Dick had kicked open the door with his foot.

“Good morning Metropolis,” sang out Dick, bringing in a lap tray with a meal on it and setting it down on the nightstand before going to the curtains. “Good afternoon Gotham.”

“Don’t,” protested Tim, but Dick whipped all the curtains open with a flourish. “Ugh, I’m melting.”

“Now, now, vampire. You know nothing beats jetlag like a little sunshine in your eyes. C’mon, sit up. I was out until sunrise fighting Mr. Freeze, in _February,_ and you don’t see me whining.”

“Time is it,” Tim grumbled, sitting up and grabbing for the mug of coffee.

“One in the afternoon.”

After a few sips, Tim’s vision and brain had adjusted enough to perceive the rest of the contents of the tray. Two soft boiled eggs in egg cups, buttered toast “soldiers”, a clementine and a banana.

“You want me to leave you alone, or...?”

Tim looked up at Dick, who was looking at the tray and back to Tim. Tim took another sip of coffee and grinned. “You wanna feed me, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Dick admitted with a little laugh. “I’ve missed it. You’re so _cute_ eating by hand.” He held up his own hands, graceful and deft. “Washed my hands super well! Promise!”

Tim pulled back the blankets and shifted, inviting Dick into bed with him. “You gotta let me take breaks to drink coffee.”

“Sure.” Dick settled in, partly behind him, at a three-quarter angle, and pulled the tray in front of them both. “Let’s get you those eggs while they’re hot.”

Dick plunged a strip of buttered toast into an egg’s runny centre, lifted it up again, and put his other hand beneath to catch drips as Tim opened up. The bread had just the right amount of resistance to his teeth as he bit down. The liquid yolk mixed with the melted butter to make a creamy, comforting sauce.

“I gotta say,” Tim said when he had swallowed, “I know everyone likes to mock British food, but there’s nothing like when Alfred does it. This... now I know I’m home.”

Dick’s eyes flicked up to meet Tim’s as he grinned, then readied the remainder of that strip of toast. This time Tim indulged Dick a little more as he took the rest of the strip in one bite, letting his lips close and suckle crumbs from Dick’s fingers for just a moment.

“Oh little bird,” groaned Dick. “Take it easy, I got a whole tray to get through before you can give me a heart attack.”

Tim swallowed and licked his lips. “Maybe you should finish with the banana then?”

 _“Timmy._ I am trying to be good.”

Tim laughed and picked up the coffee. “Where’s Alpha, anyway?” He thought about revealing that Bruce had been in his nest, but decided it would be better not to. Bruce had clearly been embarrassed about it, and Dick would absolutely tease him.

“Working out, I think. I saw him at lunch, he gave me the go-ahead to wake you. He’s in such a great mood, it’s disgusting. Bruce should never smile that much. And _chatty._ Thought about wrestling him to the ground. ‘Who are you and what have you done to the real Bruce Wayne?’”

_“Chatty?”_

“Well. Chatty by Bruce’s standards,” Dick amended. “Most of it was about stuff for your heat coming up, so I get that he was excited about it.”

Tim put down the coffee. “Just... time off and stuff?”

“Well, that, but also, y’know, since we’re gonna try to pup you this time. Still weird for me, but if Dr. Thompson really said that there’s no difference between sixteen and eighteen—Tim? What’s wrong?”

“He’s decided?”

Bits of yolk dripped from the soldier in Dick’s hand, and he put it down on the plate. “Yeah... isn’t it what you wanted...? I thought I was the only one objecting, so...”

“I don’t,” Tim whispered, and once he let himself actually say it to someone else, it was easier to say it again. “I don’t want to get pregnant yet. I’m not ready.”

“Little bird,” Dick said, stricken, gathering Tim into himself gingerly so as not to upset the tray. “You’re _scared._ I thought you wanted this so bad, that I was holding you back... we’d never make you do it until you’re ready. You’ve got to tell Bruce.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Silence.

“Tim,” Dick cajoled.

“My breakfast is getting cold.”

Dick picked the strip of toast up again and fed him. “You can’t force yourself into this just because you’re worried about disappointing Bruce. Bruce wouldn’t want that.”

Tim ate one egg’s worth of soldiers before speaking again. “Alpha _really_ wants it. I’ll be okay.”

Dick put a napkin to Tim’s mouth. “You know, you don’t have to keep on calling him _Alpha_ all the time, even when he’s not here. You’re an omega, so it all worked, but that means you’re free of that stuff now. You _should_ be, baby bird. You don’t have to let him... what’s the word... control? Something more than that...” Dick crumpled the napkin up and tried a different tack. “You don’t have to put your _needs_ under Bruce’s _wants.”_

“I know I don’t have to,” Tim said, and reached for the clementine to peel it, wanting to do something with his hands. “But I knew what I was signing up for when I told Bruce I wanted to be the pack omega. I’m just...” Tim tried to smile and tell a half-truth. “It’s mostly Damian. He’s started to adjust so beautifully, and if I get pregnant now, he’ll feel shut out. Replaced as the pup of the pack.”

Dick didn’t look entirely convinced, but he did smile a little. “You are amazingly patient with him. I love the brat myself, but he was a genuine monster to you when he first arrived. How many times did he almost kill you? Half a dozen?”

“I know. I don’t want to go back to that. I wish... I want him to really feel secure about his place in the pack before we change it again.” Tim popped a clementine segment into his mouth and chewed.

“Well I think that’s a great reason, and you should tell Bruce. _You should tell Bruce how you feel.”_

“I can’t.”

Dick sighed and took another clementine segment from Tim’s hand. He raised it to the omega’s lips and as Tim opened his mouth, Dick said, “How do you expect me to go along with pupping you when I know you don’t want it?”

Tim bit into the citrus. Sour-sweet.

Good question.

Another piece raised to his lips. Tim opened his mouth to let it in even though he hadn’t swallowed the first.

“Does Jason know about this? You know it would really kill him if he found out after the fact that he pupped you when you didn’t want it.”

Tim forced himself to swallow too soon. “That’s not fair.”

“Tim, look at my hands, for God’s sake.”

Tim looked. Dick was picking up another piece of toast, dipping it carefully into the egg, lifting it to feed Tim.

“We _want_ to take care of you. We _want_ to be good to you, like you are to us. Can’t you let us?”

Egg was dripping down onto Dick’s flat palm as he waited for Tim to open his mouth.

Tim opened his mouth.

——

There wasn’t much time before his next heat. Unfortunately, that meant that the time they did have was... Bruce’s birthday.

_“Happy 44th birthday, Alpha, by the way, I know how desperately you want this, but I don’t want to have your pups.”_

Shittiest omega. Worst timing.

Doing it the night before his birthday wasn’t great, either, but the thought had to count, right?

Tim waited for Bruce and Dick to come back in the cave, and midnight rolled over without them there.

Tim was seriously tempted to get up and go back to his nest and get some sleep, but that would just be cowardice at this point. Besides, even if Dick hadn’t said it, there was at least an implied threat that if Tim didn’t tell Bruce, Dick would.

When Batman and Nightwing rolled in, Batman had an ice pack pressed to his lower face, but they otherwise didn’t look like they’d had too bad of a night.

“Little bird,” said Nightwing, “what are you, a little owl now?”

Tim accepted the gloved hair tousle with only a little grimace. “Um. I wanted to wish Batman happy birthday and talk to him.”

“Oh, got it,” Nightwing said, in a tone that said that he got what Tim was going to talk about, and then in his usual jesting way, “God. I’m jealous, Batman. He’s never done this for my birthday.”

Batman grunted behind the ice pack, but Tim felt just a little pleasant surprise there.

“Well I’ll strip and all that in my bathroom then. Happy birthday, Batman.”

Another grunt.

Tim walked over to Batman, who was standing still, the looming figure of protection, the hero of his childhood, the centre of his life, and Tim felt small and safe and suddenly he knew that for all he’d dreaded telling Bruce—

He could tell Batman anything.

“Batman,” Tim said, putting his arms around the waist, above the tool belt; resting his cheek against the armour over his heart. “Happy birthday.”

Batman tossed the ice pack away and put both his arms around Tim. He’d obviously been punched in the face, and his lip had split and swollen a little, but it wasn’t too bad. “Thank you.”

“I have something to tell you,” Tim said, looking up. “I’m... I’m not ready for pups, even if Damian wasn’t an issue. I want to wait... until I’m older. Until I’ve grown up more, not physically, mentally. I’m not ready to be a dam.”

Batman’s chest expanded and contracted steadily with his breathing. His embrace didn’t change. “I see. You didn’t tell me before because you didn’t want to disappoint me?”

“Yes... I didn’t want you to be unhappy. I want you to have what you want from me. I want to be what you need—I’ve always wanted to be that for you, Batman.”

The injured mouth smiled a little. “You are, Tim. You are, so perfectly, that I let myself forget how young you are. You’ve grown up so much from when I first met you, blossomed so beautifully, that I let myself think that you couldn’t possibly become a more perfect omega than this. But you’re only sixteen... only sixteen. How much more beautiful are you going to become, my Tim?” The gloved fingers caressed his face. “I don’t think my heart will be able to bear it if you get even better than this.”

From the bond, from his words, from his voice, his embrace—Tim felt Batman’s love.

_I’m Batman’s omega. This is my dream life!_

“Batman,” Tim choked out, “Batman, please, let me—if you could take me here—”

The utility belt came off and the costume opened enough to free Batman’s cock, and Tim shimmied off the flannel lounge pants and slippers he’d been wearing and lay on his back on a padded medical table with his fingers gripping under his knees as he displayed himself.

The cape fluttered in the air as Batman pistoned his hips up and down. Tim clutched at the shoulders of his hero, his alpha, and moaned. “Batman, I love being yours! I love, love, love—”

“Tim,” Batman growled, and oh, it was _that_ voice. “Am I fucking your little pussy right?”

“Yes! Yes! You feel so good! Batman, Batman, I’m going to—I’m coming—”

“That’s right. My omega. Mine. Come from my cock, omega.”

Tim keened and clenched around Batman’s cock. So good. Everything was so good. Perfect. The best. How could he be anything but in bliss?

——

“What are you doing, Timothy?” said Damian, but he did so with a nearly flat tone and without looking away from his homework, to make sure Tim knew he wasn’t that interested.

“I was thinking about asking Dick to play mancala with me,” Tim answered. He opened the pouch of stones. “We used to play, when I was your age. I haven’t played for a long time, though.”

Damian didn’t say anything, but when Tim started dealing out the stones, he looked up. “Tt. You’re doing that all wrong.”

“Am I? I couldn’t find the instructions, I was just trying to remember...”

Damian put his pencil down and came over to sit on the ground across the low table from Tim, just as the omega had planned. “You don’t put stones in the banks to begin with, whatever rules you’re using. That would just be silly.”

“Lots of people start with an advantage in the bank,” Tim joked, and Damian gave him a pitying look.

Damian took the pouch from Tim’s hand and began divvying out the stones. “You know, the name mancala comes from Arabic.”

“Does it?” said Tim, who did know.

Damian nodded. _“Naqala._ It means, to move. I suppose _you_ know the Western rules, which are childishly easy.”

Tim did not actually want Damian to discount his intelligence or knowledge. “Mm, I know that if both sides play a perfect game, the player to go first will always win. A so-called ‘solved game.’”

“Well, then why wouldn’t you want to play something more challenging? I know Father has some fine chess boards.”

Tim shrugged. “Sometimes I don’t really want a challenge. I was thinking to myself how I liked the feel of the stones in my hand, and the sound they make, and drinking tea and eating biscuits and laughing with Dick. So, I thought I’d see if I could find the set.”

Damian had finished putting out the stones and was frowning at the board instead of looking at Tim. “Hm. You could play with me, instead of wasting your time chasing down Grayson. Then when you do play with Grayson you will not embarrass yourself.”

They played a few rounds. Alfred brought the tea and biscuits, and Tim chatted with Damian about soccer and how things were going on the Gotham Day School soccer team.

“They didn’t want to let me actually play,” Damian huffed, “because of my height and age. Apparently usually you have to be in sixth grade at least to be a starter...”

Tim didn’t know much about soccer, so it was a perfect subject for Damian to get to be an expert legitimately. “Who’s the best player on your team? Besides you.”

“Joy Abasi is very good,” Damian muttered. “She is our starting goalkeeper.”

“Is she in your grade?”

“She is in seventh grade.” A pause. “She is in the chess club with me as well. The president, of the chess club.”

“Oh, _now_ I see why you wanted to play chess. You wanted to obliterate me,” Tim teased, while filing away the slight redness of Damian’s ears when he spoke about the chess-playing goalkeeper two years above him for another time.

“What are you playing?”

They both looked up, and Tim jumped up. “Crap, Steph, I’m so sorry, I lost track of what day it is.”

“It’s fine, you know Dr. Thompson is always too busy to call us on time anyway,” Steph said.

“Damian I gotta go, I’m taking Steph to her appointment.”

“Tt. Forgetful. I will clear up for you.”

“Thanks Dami.” Tim dropped a kiss on the boy’s head in a rush and darted towards the door where Steph was standing in her coat.

“Hey, I’m not running,” Steph protested with a laugh as Tim speeded around to get his coat and other things. “I seriously was just interested in what you were playing. I don’t even think we’re going to be late.”

“I’d just... rather not be late,” Tim said. “And Mancala, it’s a board game about trying to capture all the stones.”

——

Since it was a self-driving car, Tim wasn’t, strictly speaking, driving Steph to her appointment, but there was a reason he was going, beyond moral support.

Tim hadn’t had an opportunity to see Dr. Thompson since his own exam where he had filled out that self-questionnaire for her. The plan was for Steph to actually be seen by one of the other practitioners at the clinic while Dr. Thompson spoke with Tim. That way they wouldn’t be gone any longer than Bruce would expect.

“As long as we’re doing this,” the doctor said, “would you like a pregnancy test as well?”

“No,” said Tim. “We used protection for my heat. We’re waiting.”

“I think that’s a good idea. Not just because of what you heard me tell Bruce about the official recommendations, either. If we decide to try finding medication to help you, I would much rather start when you’re not pregnant, so any side effects will be more distinct.”

“I can’t take medication. Bruce would have to know. Like if he had to give me treatment in the field, for interactions.”

“Okay. Medication isn’t usually my first choice of treatment anyway. I know I can skip the usual recommendations about exercise—if anything, you get too much.” She shook her head. “I also know that asking about how much sleep you’re getting is pointless. Let’s jump to talk therapy.”

“I can’t see a therapist. You’re an exception because you already know. I can’t be honest with anyone else and if I can’t be honest about everything in my life, then there’s no point.”

“I’m sure I can find someone you can trust. There’s such a thing as confidentiality.”

“Wouldn’t they have to report crimes?”

Dr. Thompson raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t think I’d hear one of the Batpack admit aloud that you all are breaking the law every night,” she said, “but that’s not the kind of crime covered by mandatory reporting laws. Child abuse, plausible likelihood of hurting oneself or others deliberately—nothing you’d be talking about.”

_That’s what you think._

_No. I wasn’t. I wasn’t abused. It was different. It was a good thing, it’s the reason why I’m an omega. It has nothing to do with why I’m sad. Lots of teenagers are sad._

“I still can’t risk it,” Tim said. “There must be something else.”

“Well. Self-help books can help a lot of people. But it would be hard for me to recommend a specific one until I know more about how this depression is affecting you. Cognitive-behavioural therapy (CBT), for example, can people to examine their own thought patterns and choose to challenge irrational or maladjusted thinking patterns. But for other issues, like grief, for example... grieving a person, or grieving an experience... when there are active causes of stress and trauma...”

“CBT sounds like what I need,” Tim said. “I don’t... I just get sad feelings, even when the things that are happening are stuff that I should be happy about. Irrational, like you said.”

“Don’t you think it’s possible that it could be more complicated than that?” Dr. Thompson said gently. “I know you weren’t particularly close to your parents, but that can be a grief in itself, on top of how you lost one, and the condition of the other.”

Tim was stuck. To insist that he was sure there was no connection between his sadness and the death of one parent and the coma of the other would sound heartless, or maybe in denial.

“I’m really glad you reached out to me, Tim, but I wouldn’t want you to try to get by with a band-aid when you need stitches and a blood transfusion. Mental illness can be just as serious. There’s no shame in needing outside help to diagnose it.”

“I know that. I’m just...” Tim suddenly felt on the verge of tears, and then the thought that he might lose it in front of Dr. Thompson...

“I can tell you want to keep this a secret from your alphas. That’s not because of shame?”

“They’ll worry.”

“It’s natural to worry when someone you love is hurting, isn’t it?”

“They’ll worry it’s their fault.”

Dr. Thompson shrugged. “That is possible. But it’s also possible they can help.”

Tim put his hand to his head. “I need to think about it. Will you promise not to say anything to them while I think about it?”

“I would only break confidentiality for mandatory reporting reasons also,” said Dr. Thompson, and Tim tried to fake that this was reassuring. 

——

“Let me take you out to lunch on the 19th,” Jason said in the open doorway of Tim’s room.

Tim blinked, turning away from the computer screen where he was trying to figure out the pattern of a mysterious illness that was cropping up more and more in nearby Bludhaven. It appeared to be popping up in people one by one or in very tiny clusters but not spreading to people in close contact with them, not following typical patterns of contagious disease spread. Nor did it behave like outbreaks from environmental toxins or similar, no massive but localized or traceable universal source. “Huh? Why the 19th?”

“Because it’s your seventeenth birthday?”

Tim blinked again and switched windows on the computer to his calendar. “Oh. Yeah.”

“So can I take you out?”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.” Tim felt a little sheepish as he smiled at Jason.

Jason grinned back, looking fond and indulgent. “What do you wanna eat, little baby?”

“Um. Surprise me, I guess? I mean you know I’m not picky.”

“Okay. I’ll surprise you. Look forward to it.” Jason winked and left, and Tim felt a little flutter.

Just when he had really refocused on the disease issue, there was a knock on the door frame again.

Dick this time, and not stopping in the doorway either. “Love of my life,” he declared dramatically, sweeping into the room and scooping Tim out of the computer chair into a _Dirty Dancing_ like swoop through the air. It made Tim laugh but also, damn, it was always hot to see how Dick could just lift him into the air like that.

Dick lowered Tim slightly so that Tim would put his legs around Dick’s waist and Tim did so obligingly. He let Dick kiss him, too, but then he said, “Dick, I was trying to work.”

“Of course. And I’m going to let you go in a minute, but I suddenly realized that I _have_ to make sure you know that I’m taking you out on the 19th. Clear me the whole evening, alright?”

Thanks to Jason, Tim got to skip the ‘why the 19th, isn’t that a weekday?’ thing and merely say, “Take me out where?”

“Well, I considered dancing, but then I thought about how I’d have to kill everyone at the club for trying to dance with you,” said Dick brightly, “and I thought I’d better come up with something less violent. Like going to the gun range.”

“The gun range? What would Bruce say?” laughed Tim.

“That’s why it’s brilliant. He’ll never think to look for us there,” Dick said in a stage whisper, then plopped Tim back in his computer chair. “Okay, it’s a date.”

“A date,” agreed Tim, but he was already frowning again at the screen.

“What’s the matter? That disease issue? I know you’ve got the best detective brain in the world after Bruce’s, but this really does look like it’s just a disease, not a crime.”

“Patterns are patterns.”

“But viruses aren’t people—if it’s a virus. Immune systems either. None of it makes decisions in the way that people do. You know a lot, my genius, but you haven’t studied medicine, unless you’ve gotten an MD on the side that I don’t know about.” Dick paused. “You haven’t, have you?”

Tim laughed. “No. Though I’m flattered you think I could.”

“If you put your mind to it? Absolutely you could.” Dick leaned in again to kiss Tim, and Tim was almost regretful when Dick didn’t seek to deepen it. “Same as I can see you’ve put your mind to it that you’re going to figure out why only some people are getting this disease.”

“Only some people... immune systems... oh my God Dick I’m an idiot. You’re right, I’m not medical enough for this. I was trying to figure out the pattern of the spread, trying to figure out the connection of the victims, without even considering whether there might be some _other_ connection of the victims. Some... some... genetic, blood type, whatever... oh my God, Dick, maybe I should learn medicine... Hey!”

He protested because Dick was grinding his knuckles into Tim’s scalp. “Noogie Howser, MD.”

Tim wriggled out of his grip. “Oh my God. How old are you?!”

“I’m a classic.”

——

“We should plan your birthday dinner, Tim,” Bruce said that night at the table when they had all just sat down.

“Tim’s going out to dinner with me,” said Dick as he buttered a roll. “And we’re doing something after. Dancing or something, I don’t know. Depending on how we feel.”

Bruce looked at Dick, and then he looked at Tim. Tim smiled, a little nervously.

“Alright,” said Bruce evenly. “Then we’ll make the family meal lunch.”

“I already asked him for lunch.” Jason was thoroughly enjoying this already. “He said yes. You should have made your request earlier, old man, he’s a hot ticket.”

Steph put her napkin to her mouth to hide her smile.

“Should I even ask about breakfast?” Bruce said sarcastically, looking from Jason to Dick and back again.

“I asked Damian if he would want to go with me to Denny’s for the free pancakes,” Tim said, “but you could come too, Alpha. And the rest of you.”

“No!” said Damian, sitting very straight. “It was going to be just us! You said so! Father, if Timothy says a thing, he should do it, you agree?”

Dick and Jason, meanwhile, were going to fucking lose it, and Tim knew that it was at the very idea of Bruce Wayne sitting at Denny’s. Steph’s napkin couldn’t hide her shaking shoulders either. Even Alfred’s cough sounded distinctly amused.

“By no means do I wish to interrupt your breakfast time with your Beaudam, Damian,” said Bruce, not showing any visible sign that so many members of his pack were delighted at his misfortune. Indeed, he smiled. “I can see that Jason was right, I didn’t move early enough. Tim. For your eighteenth birthday week, let’s go away together, alright? Someplace special. Just the two of us. Where would you like to go? Alaska is beautiful in the summer. Or Europe? We could make it two weeks.”

That stopped Jason and Dick’s laughter, but Steph let out a little “ohhhhhhhh!” of sororal schadenfreude.

“Alaska does sound nice,” Tim admitted. “Or Europe, too, I mean... I’ve never really been anywhere...”

“We should have a _pack_ vacation too, Father.”

“Hmm. So we should. During your winter break, then, Damian.” Bruce looked around at the others. “Well? Where should we go?”

Bruce had played it off masterfully, alright.

“England,” Damian said immediately, “so Alfred can visit it.”

“That is very kind of you, Master Damian, but I have no especial partiality for or against a pack holiday in the United Kingdom. I must say that the weather in many parts of it in December is even worse than Gotham’s.”

Jason and Dick wanted to go somewhere tropical with a beach. Steph frowned. “Will I even be able to fit into a swimsuit?”

She had given birth just two weeks prior and the pregnancy weight was definitely still visible, not that anybody would expect it not to be. Tim had been there with her for the birth and it had been quite an experience. Steph hadn’t even wanted to have the pup shown to her, but Tim had seen it.

Tim had really wanted to hold it. He had never held a baby before. But he felt like he couldn’t ask, and then the moment was gone, along with the pup, to the permanent home.

“Oh, Bruce will have you in shape long before then, Steph,” said Jason. “Just wait until you get the all-clear to exercise, he’s going to annihilate you. He’s the worst workout coach ever.”

“Going somewhere warm for Christmas would be nice,” said Tim, relieved that this had panned out. “But shouldn’t some of us stay?”

“I could ask the Titans to cover,” said Dick. “I mean, think about it, a _vacation.”_

They kept chatting. Tim felt his attention drifting off.

His seventeenth birthday.

His eighteenth birthday, with only Bruce.

The disease outbreak problem. He was sure, even though he’d only been at it a few hours, that he was on the right track in thinking something else was connecting the victims.

What if it _was_ following a more “exposure/contamination” model, but whatever the contaminant was, it didn’t affect most people? If something genetic made only some people susceptible? It could explain why, of a hundred people to walk through an area, two brothers both got it, but not their mother who was with them—they got it from something from their father, maybe...

“You’re not hungry, Tim?”

Tim jerked out of his thoughts at Bruce’s question. “No, I was just thinking about the cryptogenic pneumonia in Bludhaven.”

“You think there’s something malicious at work there?”

“There might be... I’m not sure yet. I’m trying to figure it out.”

Bruce nodded, chewing a forkful of salad. “If you want to consult with me or need me to get any data for you, you can always let me know.”

“I think there might be a genetic susceptibility, or maybe even something more obvious like blood type... I don’t know enough about the human body, but if I could compare some samples from victims and from people in close contact with them who didn’t get it...”

“Hmm. It might be difficult. I’ll look into it.”

“I still have contacts in Bludhaven General,” Dick said. “I’ll see what they say. They may even want the assistance.”

“Geez,” Jason mock complained, “you’ve gotta pick, Tim, you can’t be solving crimes and public health disasters too.”

“Well,” Tim said with a grin, “maybe since I can’t be the world’s greatest detective, I can be the world’s greatest _medical_ detective.”

“Just don’t get addicted to vicodin,” Dick said.

“Dick, do _you_ have an addiction to old medical shows that I don’t know about?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments are the wind beneath my wings and the ergonomic cushions beneath my wrists.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim learns the truth at seventeen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if you get double notifications about a new chapter if you subscribe. I accidentally deleted the chapter. Whoopsy.

_“You are the Dancing Queen!”_ blared loudly next to Tim’s pillow, and both he and Bruce (who was in his nest with him) startled awake.

Their battle-alert reactions quickly subsided into consternation as Tim picked up his phone, which was still blasting out the ABBA hit in mono.

“I assume _you_ didn’t set your alarm to that,” said Bruce.

A notification for a text message appeared on the screen, and Tim unlocked the phone.

 **Dick:** haaaaaappy birthday!! 💃💃💃🥳🎂🎁

“Dick did this,” Tim said wearily and turned the alarm off. “He must have done it when I let him borrow my phone for few minutes yesterday. Should have known something was up.”

“What time are you taking Damian to breakfast?”

“Mm,” Tim stretched and sat up. “Not until 8:30.”

Bruce sat up too, and when Tim looked at him, his expression was seductive. “Then let me enjoy this time when you’re still mine.”

Tim’s tummy flipped. “You just had me last night,” he said, reflexively leaning back as Bruce straddled his legs and leaned forward, caging him in with his arms.

“I remember,” Bruce said huskily. “Can you still feel my seed inside you?”

Tim bit his lip. He didn’t want to have sex right then. He _didn’t._ But the scent of his alpha and the way he was _looking_ at him and the dominance of his big, muscular body over Tim’s much smaller and leaner one... “We wouldn’t have time for your knot to go down,” he managed.

“I didn’t say I was going to have sex with you,” Bruce countered, and his gaze lingered on Tim’s recently bitten lip. “I said I wanted to enjoy you being mine.”

Tim took a sharp breath. “Alpha...”

Bruce pulled back to a sitting position slowly, keeping his eyes on Tim’s face, as if making sure that his omega was sufficiently dominated into keeping still. And he was. Tim’s heart was beating and his hands were gripping into the sheets, but he was staying still, keeping his own gaze on Bruce’s mouth. Being good.

His alpha rewarded him with a small smile, then looked down. Tim felt like Bruce’s gaze was metahuman, like he was seeing through him or going to burn his flesh, the intensity of it on his skin. The air conditioning wasn’t that low but his nipples were pebbling up like someone had rubbed ice cubes on them.

After a long, long time—probably only a few seconds—Bruce looked back up and made eye contact. “You are stunning,” he said.

“I—thank you? I—” Tim floundered.

“Still surprising to you?”

“Not surprising, just—I don’t—hard to get used to.”

“I must be failing in my duty, then.” Bruce moved off to the side of him. “To make you feel secure in how valued and esteemed you are. Bend your knees.”

Automatically Tim complied, and shivered a little when Bruce took the bent knees in his hands and spread them wide, giving the alpha a space to kneel right in front of Tim’s crotch.

The silk sheets were slippery between Tim’s fingers as he tried to figure out what Bruce was going to do. Just keep staring at him, like this?

“Don’t be so nervous,” Bruce chided gently.

“I can’t help it, I don’t know what you’re doing.”

Bruce looked up, amused. “Am I so mean to you, still? On your birthday? My poor Tim.” He moved forward, on top of Tim, and kissed him, closed-mouth and not seeking more, but Tim was hyper-aware of the tip of Bruce’s hard cock brushing against his stomach, smearing it with precum.

“I just like to look at you,” Bruce said against Tim’s cheek and peppered it with kisses as well, moving along the cheekbone to his temple. “We’ve been through so much, haven’t we? And look at you now. You please me so intensely. I know I am not a man who often expresses himself, Tim. But I want you to know.”

Tim felt a warm flush spreading down his neck. He let go of the sheets to put his hands to Bruce’s face, square and rough with stubble. “I... I know you love me. You do tell me. You... you show me.”

“I try to. Only with you, you know; I can only be like this with you. I never would have imagined, when you came to me seven years ago, with your camera and your photographs... an annoying, nosy little rich brat, I thought.”

Tim gave an embarrassed chuckle. “I kind of was.”

“You were a miracle.” Bruce’s voice was so serious. “You are. My miracle. Meant for me. The omega I didn’t know I needed. But now I do. How I require you. I _require_ you, Tim.”

Suddenly Bruce pulled back up into the kneel, leaving Tim’s hands awkwardly up in the air, and put his hand to his cock.

Tim dropped his hands to his sides, and said, unsure, “Don’t you want me to—”

“No,” grunted Bruce. “Just let me look. Won’t take long.”

Tim looked, too. He looked at Bruce’s face, the furrow of his brow, the clarity of his blue eyes. He looked at that powerful forearm and bicep that was jacking himself off furiously. It was so familiar, all of it.

 _I used to close my eyes,_ he suddenly remembered, _I used to be scared._

_I used to feel so dirty after. Because I couldn’t wash it off, it had to stay on my skin. I had to sleep with it and I felt so dirty..._

_I wanted Bruce to stay, after, he hardly ever did. Dick wanted to stay but Bruce wouldn’t let him. Jason didn’t stay but I didn’t want him to stay back then, he’d make fun of me and pinch me and tell scary stories..._

Bruce grunted again and Tim was jerked out of these memories as hot cum spurted onto his stomach and pubic hair. He felt it dribble down into the crease between his genitals and thigh. Bruce’s right hand came forward to catch the last dribbles while his left gripped hard and still on the knot. Then he reached forward and traced his cummy fingertips over Tim’s neck—on Dick’s and Jason’s marks.

After, Bruce sat up again, breathing a little fast, admiring his work. It was very quiet.

——

“I will have the Choconana Pancake Breakfast,” Damian said gravely, and Tim pressed his tongue hard against his teeth to keep his composure.

“You sure, honey? It’s a lot of food,” said the waitress.

Damian, who had needed to be counseled by Tim previously not to take offense to being called ‘honey’ by diner waitresses, unclenched his jaw and answered, “I have ordered what I want.”

The waitress glanced at Tim, who nodded to indicate it was okay. “Okay, that comes with your choice of bacon or sausage links.”

“Neither.”

“I’ll take his bacon,” Tim cut in.

“Alright, I’ll go put your orders in right now.” The waitress took their menus and left.

Tim picked up the crayon from Damian’s rejected kids menu and resumed idly colouring in the little scene of a pancake riding a skateboard. “So you’ll be having a birthday next month, right?”

“Yes.”

“Have you thought about what kinds of gifts you might want?”

“If I want something, I get it myself.”

Tim switched crayons while thinking about how to follow that one up, but Damian spoke again.

“You should not hesitate to go after the things you want as well.”

Tim looked up. Damian looked serious—Damian always looked serious—but when Tim met his eyes, Damian visibly tried to smile, and Tim smiled back. “Thanks, Damian. I’ll try to remember that.”

——

“Are you falling asleep? Don’t fall asleep, dummy.”

“You’re the one who told me to close my eyes,” Tim said drowsily as he felt the car turning.

“Yeah, so you would be surprised. We’re not going to be driving long enough for you to have a nap,” Jason said.

Tim felt the AC go higher, blasting cold air onto him. He crossed his arms and squirmed, rubbing his bare forearms. “Stop it. I’m not going to sleep. I’ll open my eyes!”

The AC went back to a reasonable temperature. “Fine, how about music then? Birthday boy picks.”

Tim hesitated. “Are you going to make fun of what I like?”

“Not today. Promise.”

Tim was still suspicious, but even though he asked for Coldplay’s hit playlist, shuffled, which he was sure that Jason would have some words about, Jason merely turned the music on.

They drove.

_“Tell you I need you, tell you I set you apart—”_

The sound abruptly cut off as Jason turned the car off. “Okay, don’t open your eyes.”

“Seriously?” Tim groaned. “Can I unbuckle my seatbelt?”

Tim heard the car door open. “Yeah, you can do that.”

Jason did mysterious things for a bit and then came to open the passenger side door, where he helped Tim get out.

_Gravel? Interesting. Birds singing. God it’s hot._

They kept walking on gravel for a bit, going down and then up, up, up. Sometimes there was shade.

“I’m not climbing a mountain with my eyes closed,” Tim said, “I don’t care how great the view is at the top.”

“It’s not a mountain, just cool it. You’re going to like this.”

They moved off the gravel onto grass and the surface seemed to be more level.

“Okay, one, two three—”

“Happy birthday Tim!” shouted Steph, Connor, and Bart as Tim opened his eyes. They were sitting on a big picnic blanket under the shade of a little grove of trees on the top of a hill, with a park below. All of them had canned drinks in their hands and there was a big picnic basket and a cooler already there.

“Oh,” said Tim, a little overwhelmed, “thanks, guys. Wow. Nice to see you, wow.”

He would never have expected that Jason would be willing to _share_ his birthday lunch with someone else. Talk about a surprise.

Jason’s Young Justice teammates had become genuine friends with Tim since the visit to Metropolis. Tim had been added to a group chat, they played online games together sometimes to decompress, and they talked one on one sometimes too. Bart was always sending him memes and funny links. Connor was never first to text or invite, but when the other two had bailed during a game session, they’d had a long talk over voice chat that got personal, because Connor had wanted to check on if Tim was really okay after talking with Lex Luthor.

_“The thing you have to remember at all times when dealing with my dam is that he is a narcissist. He cra_ _ves admiration and approval but at the same time he treats the people who give it to him as completely worthless and replaceable. So he lies, as naturally as he breathes, he lies. He wanted me to be the him he thought he deserved to be: him, but Superman.”_

_“How did you deal with that?”_

_“I had to leave. I left.”_

_“How old were you?”_

_“Ten.”_

_“Ten, really? That’s amazing.”_

_“It’s no different than you, right?”_

_“Huh?”_

_“Is it supposed to be a secret or something? Jason told me you ran away from your parents to join Batman when you were ten. Just like me, I went to Superman. He took me to_ his _parents. They’re the only reason I’m not more fucked up.”_

_“I didn’t... my parents weren’t that bad. They just... weren’t around that much, they were busy. Finding Batman was just... I wanted to join him and Robin...”_

_“Funny thing I learned from the Kents, parents are actually supposed to be around.”_

This was the first time he’d seen Connor or Bart in person since February. Steph, of course, he saw every day, but this would give her a chance to be introduced to Connor and Bart, and to get out and have fun after giving her child to an adoptive family.

“Jason... this is a really nice surprise, thank you.”

Jason squeezed his hand and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, seemingly a bit embarrassed himself. “Happy birthday, dork.”

——

Dick had texted him to wash off his scent blockers and wear “something nice but not a suit,” which was unfair. What did that mean? A dress shirt? With a tie? Without a tie?

He Googled “what should a guy wear on a fancy date” and clicked on a link that shouted “50+ MEN’S DATE NIGHT OUTFIT IDEAS.” There were a lot of suits. The stuff that wasn’t suits was sweaters and stuff. He hit back and added “in summer” to his search. He clicked on “20 Stylish Summer Date Outfits For Guys.” The first outfit was... a suit.

Tim closed the window without scrolling any further and texted Dick in all caps.

 **Tim:** JUST COME HERE AND PICK MY OUTFIT.

Dick showed up a few minutes later. “Timmy, are you seriously offering to let me pick?”

“Offering? I’m demanding. I have no idea what I should wear. You haven’t even told me where we’re going.”

“Wow. You really are my doll, doll.”

Fifteen minutes later Tim was wearing some kind of pastel blue short sleeve dress shirt that he didn’t even remember being in his closet, with the top two buttons open and the bottom untucked, and (to Tim) horrifyingly loud Madras shorts that he did know he had in his drawer and thought he had buried but apparently not well enough.

“Does this really look good?” Tim said, looking down at his own lap in the car.

“You look hot,” Dick assured him. “Promise.”

 _Hot?_ “I think I would have preferred a suit.”

“Believe me, where we’re going, you would have stuck out in a suit.” Dick flashed him a grin. “What about me, baby bird? Do I look good?”

 _“You_ look hot,” Tim said, and he meant it.

The car pulled up to a downtown sushi place called Flying Fish.

“Oh, you pervert,” said Tim as they unbuckled.

Dick laughed. “I don’t know _what_ you’re talking about. There’s nothing perverted about me feeding you sushi.”

“You are going to have a hard-on the moment I sit on your lap.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Pervert,” said Tim, but he was grinning as he followed Dick to the valet.

Inside, the restaurant was very busy and everywhere he looked Tim saw the certain signs of the young and wealthy. He could smell other omegas around, even, and he saw one—another man, in his twenties and pregnant, but not letting the swell of his belly stop him from perching on someone’s lap as he laughed at something someone else at the table was saying.

The bar, when they got there, was clearly built for the assumption of lap sitting, and when Tim sat in Dick’s lap, nobody stared. Most of the people at the bar were sitting solo, but they had walked past a man with a woman in his lap to get to their reserved seats, and from scent at least, both of them were betas.

Not being unusual was very unusual. Tim was used to people alerting and looking around to find him if he didn’t wear scent blockers out. Their reserved seats were on one extreme end of the bar, and the ambient noise provided a hum of privacy.

“This is weird,” Tim whispered into Dick’s ear, nevertheless.

“Nobody’s staring, baby bird,” Dick murmured back and kissed the spot under his ear. “You’re not unusual here. Actually, what’s unusual here is that no one will look at you strangely if you hand feed someone’s who’s _not_ an omega.”

“So you’re not the only pervert here.”

“You can sit in your own seat if you want to.”

Dick smirked, and Tim very much did not want to.

They ordered _omakase,_ and Tim ate from Dick’s hands and shifted in his lap whenever he wanted to tease him. Dick hadn’t been hard from the first moment Tim sat down, but he was definitely hard by the time Tim was licking rich gold uni from his thumb.

“God, I want to have you right here,” Dick growled softly into his ear.

“I think that _would_ get us stared at.”

“Talk to me about something unsexy. I need to make it through at least five more courses.”

“Hmm. Oh, thank you,” Tim said as a sushi chef placed oysters in front of them. He stared down at the gray blobs. “Um, well, those contacts you gave me with the hospital about the pneumonia...”

Dick laughed.

“No, but they’ve been very helpful!” Tim said, laughing too.

Dick picked up an oyster shell and tipped it gently for Tim to suck it out. “So do you have a theory?”

Tim chewed the oyster, tasting the ocean sweetness, and swallowed. “Well. It’s more like _we_ have a theory, to be fair. There’s this one gene marker, FUC3F. All of the people who’ve gotten ill that they’ve tested for it have, for simplicity’s sake, a ‘broken’ copy of this gene. It’s an immune-related gene. My—our theory is that they’ve been exposed to some kind of substance that most people’ would just let pass through their systems, but their immune system is freaking out and overreacting. Similar to allergies to something like pollen. People who are not allergic essentially ignore the pollen.”

“So whatever the contagion is, it’s like an allergy?”

“Yes and no. Like, an allergy would produce an anaphylactic reaction which is much more dramatic and faster than this. It’s more like a chemical pneumonia, but one that for some reason is only affecting this minority subset of people.”

“Chemical... hmm.”

“Yeah. It’s still really weird, and I want to talk to Bruce about investigating more in Bludhaven, as soon as I have a more coherent theory.”

“What you’ve just said to me sounds pretty coherent.”

Tim shook his head. “No, it’s not. I was just giving you the short version, anyway. Bruce will want more than that.”

“We don’t have to investigate it as a whole pack. You and me could go.”

“Yeah but we’ll need to check our genetics to make sure we don’t have the faulty gene so we’re not at risk. Bruce would need to know to get my genetics tested, you know as an omega I can’t do that kind of thing without permission, legally.”

Dick scoffed, then smiled, “Oh, they were delicious, thank you,” as the chef took the oyster plate away. Back to Tim, he said, “Don’t you know we’re all already tested?”

Tim blinked. “No?”

“C’mon, this is _Bruce_ we’re talking about. Of course he’s had us blood typed, scanned, genetically tested, function tested, _test_ tested—it’s _Bruce.”_

Tim chuckled. He couldn’t deny that. “Okay, when you’re right you’re right. But that still means I have to talk to Bruce.”

“No, the stuff is already in the network—you just have to log in and go there. I mean, I have access to mine, so you must have access to yours.”

“Go where?”

——

By the time Dick had explained about how to find it, Tim was so excited about the prospect of finding out if he and Dick were immune and being able to investigate it, just the two of them, and _really_ solve something _by himself_ that he was practically vibrating in Dick’s lap, which did no favours to the strain in Dick’s pants.

“I must really love you,” Dick said mournfully as he drove them back to the manor, skipping his further plans and knowing that when they got back that Tim was going to be interested in nothing but a computer screen.

“I will give you the fucking of your _life,”_ Tim promised, “tomorrow.”

——

Tim followed the instructions that Dick gave him exactly.

_Access denied._

_Access denied._

_Access denied._

He tried everything he could think of, those two words kept coming back.

Dick forwarded him over his own data, but Tim only barely glanced at the folder.

Why could Dick see his data but Tim couldn’t see his own?

He texted Jason to ask if Jason could send him his own data.

 **Jason:** sure how do I see it

Tim copied over the same instructions that Dick had sent him. A few minutes later.

 **Jason:** huh. this is interesting. ok emailing

The notification pinged, but Tim didn’t open it. He was leaning back in his computer chair breathing out in a slow, controlled breath.

If Bruce wasn’t currently out with Damian, he would have marched to Bruce’s office and...

Well, no, he wouldn’t have given him hell. Who was he kidding? He never gave Bruce hell. He never even gave Bruce heck.

Still, being the only one who couldn’t access his _own_ medical files was just...

It was _infuriating._

He didn’t even know why he was _so_ angry. But he was.

 _Omegan rights. Omegan self-determination. Omegan control of their own bodies. Bruce is always saying... hell,_ I’m _always saying for him, telling people, “well, the law says, but my alpha’s not like that...”_

Tim jerked back up straight in the computer chair, then stood up, then marched, marched right to Bruce’s (empty) office.

He sat in Bruce’s (empty) chair, too big and too tall for him. He’d sat in this chair so many times before, but that had always been on Bruce’s lap. Sometimes clothed, sometimes not. Sometimes with Bruce’s dick inside him.

His fingers flew over the keys as quickly as if they were Bruce’s hands. So many times he had seen Bruce entering his password, of course he knew it.

There was a _lot_ more data available here than on his own computer, but Tim wasn’t here to snoop. No. He was here to see something that was _his._ His by right, true right.

And there it was. He prepared to open the folder, get the data on whether he was vulnerable to the pneumonia, close the folder, and leave. Bruce may not even find out, and if he did, Tim was going to stand up to him. He _would._ He would—

Before Tim could open his own, systematically labeled subfolder that followed the same file name pattern as everyone else’s, he noticed there was another subfolder which said _BITCHING TIM_ in all caps.

For a long moment, he just stared at the screen.

He shouldn’t read it. It would just upset him for no reason, when he was already mad about something _for_ a reason. Him being turned into an omega was something he had consented to, it was completely different from Bruce hiding his own medical information from him.

But his finger clicked, and he began to read.

——

From a record of an encrypted conversation between Bruce and a WE researcher in the biomedical division:

_...there is, I would say, privately here with you, definitely a tipping point, the problem is figuring out how to measure it and devise a treatment that we could actually sell, when all my research is indicating that this is something people could do for free..._

_**...what if an alpha woman breastfed for two years, but mostly through pumping and bottles, would that be less effective?** _

_...I think the very early childhood epigenesis is, if anything, more critical. We know pheromones pass through breastmilk, and that is from tests done on what is the equivalent of bottled breastmilk. The subject would have intaken a great deal of alpha pheromones in that period..._

_...the amount of semen a subject would have to ingest to get a sufficient concentration of pheromones to survive the stomach acid in any significant quantity would be, if you’ll pardon the pun, obscene. Moreover, I have to say, I imagine when the pup grew older, if they ever discovered they’d unknowingly ingested semen, they would feel violated, even without sexual intent..._

_...we have to consider the psychological well-being of the pup first and foremost, as I know you agree, Mr. Wayne..._

_...breastmilk sales are already an ethical minefield. If alpha women knew their breastmilk could do this as well..._

_**Take a look at this data, what do you think?** _

_Yes! All the markers are moving in the right direction! This is so exciting, you’re potentially speeding up his presentation by years..._

_...transdermal patches or creams could be both efficacious and patentable, if buyers could get over the disgust factor of having it derived from semen and other bodily fluids..._

_...once the patent is out there, it’s impossible to get it back. In the wrong hands, in the wrong understanding..._

_...totally unlike the unique circumstances of your careful study of a boy who was already bound to present as an omega, and who gave, as best a child can give, informed consent. LexCorp has to be led away from the truth or children the world over will be in danger._

_**I’ll close the biomedical division. Play hard to get, but accept Lex’s third offer.** _

Tim read the entirety of that file, and much more.

All of Bruce’s careful, detailed notes of Tim’s puberty and presentation. How many times per day someone ejaculated on his skin, and which part of the skin it was rubbed into, and who did so. How many times someone ejaculated in his mouth, and who did so.

Some of it was shorthand that Tim couldn’t fully comprehend. Pluses and minuses, numbers, initials, punctuation marks. Some of it seemed to be talking not about Tim at all, but rather about Dick or Jason.

There was a big bold section with lots of exclamation points to mark when Dick moved back into the manor, when Tim was twelve.

The only other thing to get so many exclamation points was Bruce observing that Tim’s labia had split.

That was the end of the notes.

Numbly, when he had read it all, Tim went back to the main folder, opened his medical folder, and checked if he was vulnerable to the Bludhaven pneumonia.

He was not.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I want it, I want my life so bad  
> I'm doing everything I can  
> Then another one bites the dust  
> It's hard to lose a chosen one  
> \- Sia, "Elastic Heart"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: there's a lot of abuse self-justification in here, which could VERY EASILY be triggering. Please check in with yourself before you read.

Tim left his door slightly cracked to make it obvious his light was on, and he could feel Bruce was there, and so Bruce must have felt him there, too, and known he was waiting for this. But still, Bruce knocked, not too loudly, against the doorframe, so it wouldn’t open the door any further.

“Gosh, who is it?” Tim said sarcastically.

A short pause. “It’s me. May I come in, Tim?”

Tim counted to ten mentally, but it still came out heated: “Why pretend to ask?”

The door swung open slowly. Bruce looked as if he had showered and changed into pajamas after his patrol. Tim was glad about that; if he had stayed dressed as Batman, that would not have been fair.

Tim turned away from him and back towards the screen of his own computer, which had opened the data he had copied over from Bruce’s.

“I saw that you accessed some files on my computer,” Bruce said to his profile. “I know you will want to speak with me about what you saw.”

“I’m really surprised.”

“Of course. I know it must be shocking. It was not written in a way for—”

“No, I mean, I’m surprised it was so easy for me to get to it,” Tim said, still staring at the screen. “I mean, you’re _you._ You always have back-up plans, you take security so seriously... like, I actually wondered for a bit, maybe this is a test? Maybe he’s testing me? Did I... did I fail?” He laughed a little. “Like, I wanted to believe for a bit, something like that. That you set me up to read fake stuff, as a punishment for going rogue... I know how much you hate that.”

Bruce stayed silent, standing just in front of the closed door. Tim glanced at him out of the corner of his eye only; he didn’t trust himself enough to be able to stand up to Bruce looking straight on.

“But deep down I knew it wasn’t fake. So then I was trying to figure out how I could just... enter your password and get there? That was it, with no further security? I mean, you blocked me from seeing the data on my own account, so it wasn’t that you didn’t care if I saw it. And you must have known I figured out your password. So it wasn’t that you didn’t know I could get into it. So I came up with a theory, here it is. My theory is that you were absolutely certain that I wouldn’t dare to access your computer without permission.” Another glance out of the corner of his eyes. “Is that why?”

“No, I genuinely did not realize you had figured out my password,” Bruce said. “And I did receive an alert about a potential unauthorized access while I was patrolling, but at that exact moment I was in mid-fight. By the time I checked the notice and pulled up remote feeds showing that it was you and what you were accessing... I decided if you had found part of it, then you needed to finish it.”

Tim breathed slowly. Bruce’s scent... even when he first met Bruce, before Bruce brought up the idea of Tim becoming an omega, even though he was just a pup, he loved Bruce’s scent like he had never loved any pheromones he had smelled before. Far more attractive and comforting than either of his parents’.

He was hurting. Tim was hurting so bad and he wanted comfort. When he was waiting for Bruce, he couldn’t ask Dick or Jason for it—not until he spoke to Bruce himself. So he’d been in his room like this all alone, and having Bruce come in now... every nerve ending in his body was crying out that if only Tim would go to Alpha, Alpha could make this anguish subside, Alpha being here meant he must be safe.

“May I... explain, expand, on things that weren’t in that file?” Bruce spoke up when Tim didn’t say anything.

Tim inclined his head with a tense jerk.

“I can tell you feel... very, very sad. Betrayed, I think. And I did mislead you. Not by telling you lies, but by only telling you partial truths, in a way that would make you fill in the gaps with errors. The whole picture was too complicated for you to comprehend when you were ten.”

Tim made a noise without intending to. Some kind of a “hnnghaaah?” noise of choked, wounded outrage.

Bruce at least has the decency to look ashamed—even to _feel_ ashamed, and Tim wished he couldn’t tell that Bruce wasn’t faking guilt. There was nothing clear cut. “No, you’re right. Not that it was too complicated, and not—” He stopped, then started again. “I did take advantage of your youth, inexperience, and—and your vulnerability. But I also... I was sure that you would agree, no matter what, back then. If I told you the entire truth, I still think you would have agreed, but then... it would have been worse for you, mentally, and worse for the pack... I told you the parts of the truth, not that I thought would make you agree, but that would mean the whole experience would feel necessary.”

“You think I would have agreed? You think I would have... would have... done all that oral sex, which I _hated,_ knowing that it wasn’t doing anything? Let you mark me up all that time, knowing that all it was doing was going to make me present a little faster?”

“Yes,“ said Bruce. “You haven’t grasped the whole truth yet, Tim. I didn’t need an omega in six years—I needed one _then._ Jason... I nearly lost him in that explosion, but he still wasn’t calming down. Dick would only return my calls if it was for crime fighting. Barbara had formally left the pack already, which was bad enough, but I’d known from the beginning she was more attached to her own father, I was prepared to lose her. But my boys... I couldn’t lose my boys...“

“And you thought a little ten year old pup would bring them back more than a presented omega?”

“Not just any pup, Tim. You. I knew, within the first day, before I even had the results that suggested you could be an omega, that you were special, that you fit in to missing pieces of our pack. And it was making you an omega together that really brought Dick home and straightened Jason out. You are so much more than just an outlet for sexual desire—you weren’t even inspiring desire, when we began. All of us loved you before we ever began to lust for you.”

Tim wanted to say it didn’t feel like love, but the problem was that it had.

Just being touched had felt like love, in the beginning.

With a sick feeling in his stomach, Tim realized that Bruce was right about one thing. If Bruce had told him that all the touching and the oral sex wasn’t necessary to make him an omega, it was just to help Dick and Jason—he would have said yes, back then. If that was the only way he could be in Batman’s pack, he still would have said yes.

“In retrospect, I realize that I—“

“Be quiet a minute, I need to think,” Tim said, and closed his eyes.

Bruce shut up.

Something wasn’t adding up in Bruce’s explanation.

Bruce said that Tim was misled into thinking the “treatment” was necessary for him to be an omega at all, so that the experience would be easier to bear. And Bruce had meant it. But Bruce had also said that he’d mislead Tim by telling him partial truths, knowing Tim would fill thr gaps in incorrectly.

Tim remembered, many times, off-hand things, odd things, that Dick would say, that over time put together made it clear that Dick thought, not that Bruce had asked for Tim’s permission to make him an omega, but that Tim was the one who came up with the idea, and that Bruce had agreed to have the pack make him an omega as he desired.

Maybe Bruce hadn’t outright lied to Tim, but maybe he had used him to indirectly lie to Dick and Jason.

Not maybe.

“So my mental health—ha—was not the whole reason. It wasn’t even the most important reason. That you made me think it was necessary. I had to think it was necessary so that Dick and Jason would think it was necessary. Dick and Jason, unlike me, would have refused to join if they did not think it was necessary.” Tim opened his eyes. “Is my conclusion correct?”

“Yes. That was why I said, worse for the pack.”

“So what you meant by worse for me mentally was that I would have to lie to Dick and Jason and I would have felt guilt and shame about it.”

“...Yes.”

“You didn’t doubt that I would keep the secret if I was asked to. I’m sure, you’re right, back then, if you had explained it like this, I would have.”

“Yes. I am sorry for the pain you are feeling about it now. This is what I wanted to spare you. I hope, when you take time to fully consider everything, you will forgive me. I’ll give you as long as you need.” Bruce paused a moment, then said, “I’ll go now. If you would like to make a retreat somewhere, I’ll handle everything with the boys and the company—”

“No. Be quiet again.”

Tim had his eyes squeezed shut, but he didn’t hear the door open, so it seemed like Bruce was doing as he’d asked. Well, “asked.” God, he was being so disrespectful.

He was ready to be disrespectful.

Tim stood up so swiftly and carelessly that he knocked his own computer over. He looked at Bruce and opened his mouth, then paused, calculated, and pointed at the bottom corner of the nest-bed. “Sit there.”

Bruce moved and sat, as straight-backed as was possible on a soft mattress.

With the height disadvantage momentarily erased, Tim began. “You said you kept this from me so I wouldn’t have to feel more guilt and shame. Right? Out of love for me, right?”

“Yes—”

“I understand. I really understand, you know. I kept things from you out of love too, I’ve been trying so hard to shield you from worry and guilt and shame. Let’s lay it all out, all the truth. You can’t make correct conclusions without correct data, right? World’s greatest detective.”

Bruce didn’t make a sound, now, but his eyes were very sharp as they met Tim’s, and Tim could feel the unease coming off of him in waves. It was alright. Unease was a feeling he’d drowned in, before, he could swim in it now.

“I was so scared. Do you understand? I was so scared, I was terrified, all the time. I wanted to be touched, but you only ever touched me for training. I wanted to be part of the pack, but I could only be in it if I became an omega. Do you understand how much I worried that I wouldn’t be an omega? Every day, every night, I was scared that I would present as a beta or alpha instead and you’d throw me out. That I’d lose Robin before I ever got to be Robin—do you know how much I _longed_ to be your Robin, by the way? That’s just as an aside, it’s not really that big of a deal, I guess. I mean, compared to the rest of it, it couldn’t be.”

He was speaking so fast, but he couldn’t slow down. It was all spewing out like vomit. “So. I was scared back then, and I hated what was happening, except I loved it too, because sometimes it did feel good and because you were paying attention to me, but I felt so much shame, I felt so dirty, because I knew that it wasn’t really me you guys cared about, it was all for my eventual cunt.”

“That isn’t—”

“I’m not finished,” Tim said, and trembled with it. “Dirty, yeah, I felt so dirty, that was one of the worst things. Having to sleep with cum on my skin every night, of course I felt dirty. Especially because I usually slept alone. Why? Why did you never let Dick sleep with me? I know now, I get it, you saw immediately how much he wanted to comfort me and you realized you could use it against him. That’s why you let him start doing it when I was thirteen. He’d moved back into the manor, just like you wanted. And Jason, did Jason really calm down because you were letting him masturbate on me and telling me to suck his cock? When we were both pups, he didn’t seem calm at all. He was a bully, actually. I wanted him to like me so much, and he’d trip me and pinch me and scare me and always, always laugh at me and call me names. He was still acting like that more often than not until we bonded, he still does, a little, but—that’s nothing to do with you, forget it. Point is, point is, it was all so hard. It was so hard! And I was so scared it was going to all be for nothing, that I would lose you! And you knew—the whole time you knew! I thought you were just being reassuring, when you’d tell me you were sure it would work—no, you knew, you knew, you knew!”

Tim held up his hand so Bruce wouldn’t talk while he gulped air. “And I thought that it was all what needed to happen, so when I presented, when we bonded, I couldn’t understand why I felt so bad all the time. So I hid it from you, from Dick and Jason some, but especially from you. I thought I was ungrateful, that there was something wrong with me as an omega, as a _human,_ that I felt so... so... so traumatized! So... empty and rotten inside... I feel like there’s this big pit inside me, even when I’m happy. I don’t know how to feel good enough for you. I knew you loved me, I was sure, but it always felt wrong, and I couldn’t understand it, so I blamed myself for not being good enough for you. Now I know. It felt wrong because your love for me is all twisted. You only love me for what I can do for you.”

“Tim—that’s not true. I do love you, I adore you—I made mistakes, and I can see I didn’t realize how much pain you were in. I thought you were handling it so... you did handle it beautifully. You were perfect, Tim, I said that and I meant it. I was trying to balance the others in the pack, but... Tim, now that I know, I want to fix it.”

 _“Fix_ it?”

“Make up for it—take care of you. I... part of the reason why... I did consider, the data about... child molestation, and... I thought we would be different. Because I’m not... because I wouldn’t abandon you, I will never... it wasn’t supposed to be—I’m not a pedophile. I never wanted any pup before you, sexually. I... if I got carried away in the role...”

It was so bizarre in itself, to see Bruce at a loss for words, to see him struggle to justify himself.

“Carried away in the role,” Tim said, weakly. “Right.”

All the held in, trembling energy evaporated in an instant. He wanted to burrow into his nest and hide.

Bruce must have sensed it. “I’ll leave—I’m so sorry, you’re exhausted, we can continue—”

He stopped talking because Tim had pushed himself into Bruce’s chest, pushed his face into his throat and neck, inhaling.

“Don’t leave,” Tim said against his Adam’s apple. “Don’t misunderstand, but don’t leave.”

Tim could feel Bruce’s pulse under his skin. “Tell me where you want me.”

Tim turned out the light, undressed, and changed, while Bruce sat motionless in the dark. Then Tim got into his nest and pulled Bruce up, arranging the alpha’s arms around him like posing a living statue.

“Just like this,” Tim muttered, and nothing more.

The omega breathed with his forehead resting against his head alpha’s chest, and his nervous system felt safe, and when he fell asleep, he did not have nightmares.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim never gets a day off.

When Tim woke up, he felt good, that kind of satisfied completion that you only get when your body awakens naturally, on its own time, in the proper part of the cycle.

He shifted in Bruce’s arms and stretched his legs, jutting the heels out, and then he remembered.

Bruce was awake, when Tim’s eyes met his; very awake, but not pleasantly so. He looked as if he had barely slept at all.

Tim thought about asking Bruce the time, but instead he sat up and looked at the clock on the wall. Nearly ten’o’clock. “It’s so late,” he exclaimed, turning back towards Bruce, “what about work?”

Bruce hadn’t moved from his side. “They’re used to Bruce Wayne no-showing.”

“They’re not used to _me_ no-showing.”

“You can get away with doing it once in a while. We’ll say you have a mild illness, if you really want an official excuse.”

It felt weird, talking to Bruce while Bruce was lying down like that, so stiffly and unnaturally. Was he waiting for permission to move, or something? “You can get up.”

Bruce sat up. Tim felt no emotion from him. “Would you like me to leave now?”

Tim looked away from Bruce, and his gaze landed on his computer, still fallen, askew, on the carpet, and leapt up. How had he not realized... he plucked the computer up and saw no obvious cracks, righted it on the desk, and clicked the mouse. The screen turned on, asking for his password, and he entered it. All the data was there, just as he’d left it last night when he had it out with Bruce.

He stared at the screen. He’d had it opened to an ultrasound image of his own abdomen, marked with a date that meant it fell in the period just after he had broken his arm, age twelve. He’d been on heavy painkillers, he knew that, but he had absolutely no memory of having an ultrasound performed on him. The ultrasound image itself wouldn’t have made sense to Tim, except that it had been helpfully annotated here and there with the words “left ovary” and “right ovary” and “possible uterine development?”.

_He knew, he knew, the whole time, he knew._

Tim turned around. Bruce was still sitting up, watching him.

“What are we going to tell Dick and Jason?” Tim said. “You know, if I tell them what you did, it’s going to destroy the pack.”

“I realized that over the past hours. I also realized that it should be up to you to decide. I’ve... been alone before. It is certainly the result I deserve.”

“Oh, and so it’s all my responsibility?”

Bruce’s solemn eyes widened. He was surprised again.

“I don’t know what I want, but you don’t get to say it’s all my decision suddenly, when I’ve had no decisions up until now. You don’t get to say it’s my decision to destroy the pack or not. As if this is about how to punish you. What happened to fixing me? You think you can just tell me to walk away?”

Bruce stared at him for a long moment and then said slowly, “I don’t understand what you’re saying at all. I want to, but I don’t.”

Tim shifted his feet on the carpet. “I... look, I don’t exactly understand either. I told you, I don’t know what I want, but what I do know is I don’t want you trying to be all... so... all _martyr bullshit_ about this, and pull away from me and say it’s my choice, and make me have to choose... look, I don’t know what I want, but I know the idea of losing the pack has been the number one worst nightmare of my life for years, so don’t think you can just _fucking_ say that, okay? Don’t say that.” Tim breathed, then abruptly added, “Sorry about the language.”

That actually made Bruce smile just that slightest amount, just a split-second before vanishing—someone else probably wouldn’t have even noticed, but Tim had learned every slight minutia of Bruce’s expressions. “You should certainly be allowed to swear if you wish to. The... the conflation of me as parent-figure and as mate was... something that I consciously took advantage of, but always intended to be temporary. I always wanted us to reach a point where you felt equal to me.”

Tim crossed his arms. “What you wanted, what you intended. How did you think it was going to actually happen?”

Bruce was silent for a while, tense in his jaw. Finally he said, “I thought it would happen when you became a dam. That you would fully take the authority I always knew you were capable of. You... I still believe that you are capable of it.”

“Is that why you wanted me to get pregnant so bad? Oh my God.” Tim ran both his hands through his hair and stood for a moment with them on top of his head and raising his shoulders, then let out a big, exasperated sigh. “Oh my God, Bruce.”

It was the first time Tim had called Bruce ‘Bruce’ to his face without immediately correcting himself since he was twelve years old, the time when the grooming had accelerated. Tim flushed a little when he realized what he had said, but it was out.

Bruce cleared his throat. “Part of it. Not... not really the main reason...”

Tim felt Bruce’s sadness and it made keeping control of his own sadness harder. It was as if he could see Bruce’s idea of them as a happy, idyllic pack, sharing in the raising of pups, all bound together, always, and fighting to keep Gotham safe together; Bruce as head alpha, and Tim as head omega.

“This is impossible,” Tim said helplessly. “You mislead me for years, you forced me to do stuff I wasn’t ready for and used me, all justified because you had this dream of us being a happy pack, and you knew I had the same dream. And then the second I call you out on it you tell me I can blow up the pack if I want to! You tell me I can destroy your dream for good, you tell me I can take the things you love most in life away from you! What am I supposed to do? Hate you? Love you? You... why couldn’t you just _be_ a villain if you wanted to be so villainous. You fucked me up so bad and I don’t even get to hate you! How am I supposed to be angry at you when you just sit there and look _sad_ about it!”

“What I said last night hasn’t changed. I want to... if fix you isn’t the right word, then whatever it is you do need. I thought... I just wanted to make clear that no option is off the table, if it’s what you want. I won’t stop you.”

“What I want...” Tim took a deep breath, held it, then let it out in a rush. “I want lots of things. I want you to feel even a small portion of the anxiety that I’ve felt. I don’t want you to feel any certainty, because I never got to. I want you to _stew_ in this, Bruce: I might forgive you, I might accept you back, I might keep the secret forever from Dick and Jason. _Might._ I want you to be worried every moment that you’ve lost me forever, and trying to figure out every moment how to win me. I want you to show me you’re desperate. Your time has started. Go.”

Bruce didn’t say anything, but he got up and left fast.

Tim felt a surge of vindictive pleasure for a moment, and then a terrible ache, one that made him sink into his computer chair with his arms wrapped around himself: Bruce had been so willing to give him up. Of course. Bruce always wanted things his way or not at all. Bruce would probably go and tell Dick and Jason himself, let Dick punch him or Jason fucking shoot him, even. Exit Bruce Wayne, main character to the end. It’d all be like some disgusting classical tragedy: hubris, lies, fornication, downfall.

——

 **Dick (07:16):** let me know when u wake up :)  
**Dick (07:17):** love youuuuuuuuu 🥰😍😚  
**Dick (07:48):** you still not up? :P  
**Dick (08:10):** u not feeling well baby bird? or did u stay up too late doin gresearch lol  
**Dick (08:24):** al thinks b is w u but b isn’t answering my texts either  
**Dick (08:24):** whats going on??

Tim texted back, “yeah stayed up too late,” dropped his phone on a nearby pillow and hit the intercom for Alfred. “Alfred?”

“Master Timothy, good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, I did, thanks Alfred. I just went to bed late and forgot to set an alarm.”

“Will you be coming out for a meal or do you require one to be brought to you?”

“Um... I’ll come out. I can get my own food.”

“Very good, sir. Master Richard was asking about you this morning. Oh, and if you were not aware, I believe Master Jason and Miss Stephanie have guests in the game room.”

Oh God. The thought of facing all of them right now... “Okay, thanks. Do you know where Damian is?”

“I’m afraid I’m not sure. Master Damian appeared in his usual spirits at breakfast, however. He and Master Richard certainly do get on.”

“Yeah,” said Tim. Normally that would have made him smile. “He’s probably training or something, since Dick’s at work, right?”

“That is my understanding. If you are getting your own food, sir, I will go ahead with my planned excursion to the market. Is there anything you wish me to buy?”

“No. Wait, actually, Alfred, can I come with you? I can be there in five minutes.”

“No need to rush, my boy. I’ll prepare you a coffee and breakfast sandwich to take with us.”

——

They rode in silence until Tim had finished his croissant, which didn’t take long.

“Something troubling you, dear boy?”

“Yes,” Tim said, crumpling up the wax paper and stuffing it into the door of the car. “This is... something I’ve found out, that Bruce was keeping from me... I’m not ready to tell Dick or Jason or Steph about it.”

“I’ll keep it secret.”

“The... the process... to turn me into an omega... it wasn’t necessary. Bruce found out before it even started that I was going to be an omega.”

“Really? I thought it was impossible to tell future dynamic that young.”

“Bruce was working with a scientist who found it out... and all along the way, he found more and more evidence that I was definitely an omega. Like, he did an ultrasound on me when I was twelve, and it showed my—” Tim was glad they were having this conversation in the car, where he could stare through the windshield—“my ovaries, like, developing, so he definitely knew.”

“I see. Have you spoken to Master Bruce about this? Perhaps—”

“He admitted it was all true. He kept it from me so that I wouldn’t have to lie to Dick and Jason about it. It apparently wasn’t important to him that not knowing if it was working was hell for me... hell on top of hell, really.”

Alfred put on his turn signal and pulled off the road onto a “scenic overlook”, putting the car into park. Then he looked at Tim. “I’m sure that part of it isn’t true, that it wasn’t important to him. My dear, are you sure it isn’t just the resentment of finding out that Master Bruce was keeping a secret from you that is hurting you so?”

Tim wished they were still driving. “It isn’t. I was already... I’ve been in a lot of pain for a long time, Alfred. I just kept it hidden because I thought I wasn’t supposed to feel it.”

“Oh, Master Timothy,” Alfred sighed. “I should have realized... Master Bruce always keeps his sufferings hidden as well. You two are so alike.”

Tim’s stomach turned over, but he didn’t say anything.

“When he told me that he wanted to try the old fashioned ways of making you an omega, I was very surprised. ‘Beg your pardon, sir, but that’s not like you,’ I said. ‘You always said that the way society used to treat omegas was shameful, and I can’t say you’re wrong, either, as someone who was there and saw how your mother was brought up.’ And he told me that it’d be different with you, because he wasn’t doing it to break you.”

“I feel pretty broken,” Tim said to the glove compartment. “I can’t get help, either. Like, therapy help. Mandatory reporting laws. They’d call the police on Bruce and Dick, I know Bruce can afford the best lawyers but lawyers wouldn’t stop the arrests and trials being a huge scandal.”

“Hmm,” Alfred said. “Well, my training and natural inclination is to keep such things in the pack.”

“Yeah,” whispered Tim.

“However. I looked into the consequences when Master Bruce first informed me of his plan. In the state of New Jersey, the 1996 law that outlawed criminal touching within a pack of a pup for purposes of encouraging omegan development categorizes the offense as class one misdemeanour, punishable by a maximum of six months in jail and a fine no more than one thousand dollars.”

Tim turned towards Alfred. “Are you serious? That’s it?”

“That is the maximum penalty, but there is a further point, which is the statute of limitations. The statute of limitations on misdemeanours with a child victim is two years past their date of presentation.”

Tim could do the math. He’d had his first heat when he was fourteen, and now he was seventeen.

Even if he went to the police station and demanded an investigation... there’d be no possibility of charges.

“In light of this, Master Timothy, I think we can find you a therapist who will not make trouble to no purpose. Or perhaps mate counselling. If it was _you_ asking, you may well get Master Bruce to agree to speak to someone. Something _I_ have tried and failed to do for decades. In the end, dear boy, this may all be for the better.” Alfred’s tone was gentle but optimistic. “Every cloud has its silver lining, as they say.”

Tim wasn’t sure how he had wanted or expected Alfred to react. In hindsight. Alfred had reacted exactly the way Tim should have expected. Alfred’s whole _thing_ was loyal savoir-faire in the face of insanity. Whenever his young billionaire employer had said ‘I’m going to dress as a bat and fight armed criminals without firearms” for the first time, Alfred had probably answered, “Very good, sir.”

“I know I said I wanted to go to the store with you, but could you take me home? I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

Alfred turned the car on. “I am never inconvenienced.”

——

Tim decided to work out in the machines area when he reentered the manor, because he knew Damian rarely went in there because most of the machines didn’t work for his height. Instead, Damian was usually in the room with free weights and parkour equipment.

But when the door opened, the sound of the treadmill was running, and there was Damian, jogging away.

While Tim was trying to make his face look like nothing major was happening, Damian slammed his hand on the treadmill’s emergency stop and front flipped over the machine, landing with a squat and a scowl at Tim.

“What did _I_ do?” Tim demanded, because if Damian was going to pick _now_ to go back to being a little shit to him all the time, he was not having it.

“When I told you to go after the things you want,” Damian said, still in a tense pose, “why did you not have the honour to tell me in person you intended to go after _my_ position?”

 _Bruce, you undiplomatic emotional idiot._ “Did your father tell you he was giving me the position of Robin? He hasn’t told _me_ that.”

“Father said you wanted it.”

“Okay... okay, Damian, can you just stand up like a normal person while we talk? I’ve had a really hard couple of days and this isn’t helping.”

Damian’s lip curled, but he stood up, ramrod straight, with his chin elevated and arms crossed over the GOTHAM DAY SCHOOL EAGLES text printed on his shirt.

“There’s... look, I’m sure you don’t want to know _details_ about how things are going between me and your father.”

The emphasis on _details_ had the desired effect. Damian’s face warmed. He broke his accusing eye contact and didn’t resume it. “Don’t change the subject!”

“It’s not changing the subject. Your father and I... have an issue between us. As part of... discussing it... I mentioned that I wanted to be Robin very badly when I was younger, you know, like, that I was disappointed I never got to be Robin. It was really just an aside. I didn’t think he would react to that by taking Robin away from you and giving it to me.”

Damian made eye contact again, looking incredulous, and actually squinted a little, studying Tim hard, which was discomfiting but Tim resisted the reflex to step back. “You genuinely have no idea of the power you have over him, do you. Of _course_ if you said you were disappointed not to be Robin, he would make you Robin. Timothy, you are entirely too naive.”

“You’re not wrong on that last part. I’m trying to deal with it.” Tim grinned ruefully, then sighed. “Okay. I’ll talk to Bruce—”

“There is no need. I have no objection on the merits to your taking the position of Robin. If the title of Robin is something you want, you should have it. It is only that you had ample time yesterday, I would have thought, to inform me that you wanted the role. Now that I understand that you had no notion of it, I feel no offense.” The pup nodded in a satisfied way. “I have exercised for longer than usual, so I will leave you free use of the room.”

“Wait, Damian. This may be a lot to ask, but... could I hug you?”

“Hug,” said Damian, stopping in his tracks.

“Yes.”

“Me. Now.”

“Yes.”

“I am unwashed.”

“That’s okay, I’m about to work out anyway.” Tim opened his arms.

“If that is what you want,” Damian said stiffly, walked forward, and raised his arms awkwardly, more like a kind of grappling approach than anything huggy, palms shifting up and down as he sized up whether he was meant to put his _over_ Tim’s or _under_ them, or perhaps one under and one over.

Tim grabbed his elbow and pulled him in. “Silly pup,” he said, and kissed the side of Damian’s sweaty locks. “Don’t overthink it.”

Tim had managed a lot of drive-by, glancing body contact with Damian, but this was their first true embrace.

Wonder of wonders, Damian actually did relax in his hold, even shifted slightly without pulling away. “I do know how to hug people. I am not a robot. You are just different. I have not been sure how to act.”

“I’m not trying to be difficult.”

“I know.”

“It is probably partly my fault though. I don’t know how to be pack omega right. It’s not what I thought it would be like—” Tim had started the sentence easy, self-deprecating, casual, but suddenly it was like his throat closed up.

At first Damian didn’t say anything, he just stayed in the embrace with Tim, as Tim tried to get himself together. Then the boy turned his head very slowly and placed a kiss, precise and deliberate, just underneath Tim’s jaw.

“You are a perfect pack omega, Beaudam,” Damian said, and Tim squeezed his eyes shut and breathed hard.

——

 **Jason (11:34):** are you seriously still asleep? what did you and Dickhead do last night ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
**Jason (11:35):** come to the game room Connor and Bart are still here and cheating with their crazy reflexes  
**Jason (11:35):** if you can walk lmao

Tim had just left the gym showers, standing naked in the changing room and looking at his phone. He opened the text from Jason, thought a minute, couldn’t come up with anything, and put the phone down.

It seemed that while Bruce hadn’t talked to Jason or Dick, like he had initially feared. But Bruce was clearly doing something, taking Robin from Damian.

Great. He’d told Bruce he wanted Bruce to feel anxious and uncertain, and all it was doing was making him wonder what Bruce was doing.

Once he was dressed, he sat on the bench and looked at the texts again.

_You have to see Jason and Dick soon. If you keep putting it off they’re going to confront you and then it’ll really be off. You have to figure it o_ _ut. Try to hide that anything’s wrong? From the alphas who can read my emotions? Yeah, no. Both of them figured out I was depressed already... wait, I can use that. Right. They both already know I’ve been sad and scared. I can just say it’s the same thing._

**Tim (11:47):** I don’t think I’d be very good company today, sorry. I’m kind of depressed. Nothing you did.  
**Jason (11:48):** you need me? I can kick these losers out  
**Tim (11:48):** I think I need a quiet day just to figure some things out  
**Jason (11:48):** yeah, understandable  
**Jason (11:48):** just don’t get too stuck in that stupid head of yours, baby. if it it’s telling you bad things about yourself, they’re not true  
**Tim (11:49):** thanks  
**Jason (11:50):** unless if it’s telling you that you’re a shorty. cuz that’s true.  
**Tim (11:50):** no thanks

——

 **Dick (17:00):** I’m offfffff  
**Dick (17:00):** thought all day about what u promised me last night

_What I promised...?_

Tim had to think for a moment before he remembered.

“The fucking of your life,” he had said to Dick.

Before.

Shit.

_Finesse it, finesse it._

“I forgot” he wrote and erased, then “sorry but,” also erased.

_Okay. Okay. I can do this. Same line you gave Jason._

**Tim (17:02):** I’m kind of a mess today, it’s not your fault

Within seconds, the fucking phone _rang._

What could Tim do? “Hi, Dick.”

_“Baby bird, what’s this about being a mess? Something happen?”_

“It’s not just one thing,” Tim hedged, which was a great non-lie, but then he struggled to follow it up.

_“Please tell me I can come give you attention. Forget the sex, if you’re not in the mood. Just let me cuddle you. Have you had dinner? What do you want? I can bring you food if you don’t want to eat with the pack.”_

“Um...” Tim realized that he had skipped lunch. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

——

“Knock knock, it’s your favourite Dick.”

Tim snorted. “Yeah, come in.”

“Burrito bowl,” Dick announced as he came in, “and a green smoothie for my favourite Tim.”

They sat on the floor, leaning against the bed, shoulder to shoulder, as they ate. The silence wasn’t bad. Dick smelled good and his emotions were bright and soothing, as usual.

“So,” said Dick when the bowls were empty and tossed in the bin and Tim was nursing at his smoothie, “you wanna talk about feelings, or you wanna just put your mind on something else? I could give you a massage. Haven’t done that for a while.”

Being touched and not having to talk! “I would love a massage.”

Tim threw towels down to protect his nest while Dick got massage oil and started warming it in his hands. “You look wound tighter than a rubber band ball. Poor little bird.”

Tim laid down on his front and pulled another towel over his lower half to keep from getting too cold. Dick straddled his ass and started with a gentle sweep of the oil over his back, no pressure at all, just spreading the lubrication.

“I’m gonna keep it really light unless you ask for more pressure.”

“No, do it like normal.”

“This good?”

“Yeah, oh... you’re so good at this...” Tim groaned as Dick ran his thumbs along the outside of Tim’s spine.

“Well I love doing it. Love seeing you melt under my hands, Timmy. In any way.”

His muscles gradually let go of knots and softened. Dick got off of his back, tugged the towel up to cover where he’d been working, and reached for more oil.

“Do the cats’ paws thing,” mumbled Tim.

“Mm-hmm, just let me oil you up first.” Dick’s touch was business-like even on his butt and inner thighs. He straddled Tim again, facing the other way, and started doing the requested ‘cats’ paws’ move, kneading Tim’s butt with his knuckles.

“Oh my God,” groaned Tim, “why does that feel so good.”

Dick laughed and kept working.

Tim almost could have fallen asleep, but when his lower half was done and Dick asked him to flip, the motion revived him.

Dick started with the lower half this time, again having his back to Tim, the glorious bronze expanse of it. He did Tim’s legs and then moved down to do his feet, assiduously massaging each toe.

Tim squirmed a little.

“Tickles?” Dick stilled his hand.

“No, just... I dunno. I always find it a little embarrassing, watching you do my feet. Feels wrong somehow.”

“Why would it be wrong?” Dick gave him his brilliant smile. “Feet are important, you know. Especially with what we do.” Dick laid a delicate little kiss on his left big toe, and Tim laughed and pulled a bit, though not enough to really challenge Dick’s grip on his ankle.

“Don’t kiss it at least, geez.”

“You know I like kissing you everywhere.” Dick smirked at him and reached up to grab the towel, tugging it down over Tim’s legs.

It covered up how Tim was getting wet, but he was sure Dick could smell it, and Tim’s little penis made an embarrassing bump in the towel.

Dick didn’t mention it though, just getting more oil. This time however he only rubbed it between his hands a moment, so when Dick spread his palms over Tim’s chest, the omega gasped a little.

“Was it that cold?” Dick said innocently. “Sorry.”

Tim tried to glare, but it was wasted, because Dick wasn’t looking at his face anyway. He was looking at his pecs. At his nipples.

“So cute.” Dick taps one with his index fingertip. “Boop.”

“Diiick,” Tim whined.

“Who doesn’t like a little boop?” Dick grinned at him. “Okay, I’ll stop teasing. I love you a lot, you know.”

Tim’s stomach flipped, but Dick was just going back to the massage, a normal, therapeutic-oriented massage.

It gave him time to catch his breath, figuratively, while his breaths lengthened and slowed, literally.

“I love you too, Dick,” Tim said as Dick worked on his right wrist. “I’m... I know you didn’t have bad intentions, and I know you’ve said before that you wish you could have helped me more, but... I think the... stuff that happened before I presented really fucked me up. I didn’t want to admit that it fucked me up, because I thought it was necessary, but it really fucked me up.”

Dick looked at him, no longer smiling, worried. “Oh, little bird. Is that what was bothering you?”

“More or less,” Tim said.

Dick brought Tim’s hand up to his mouth and kissed it. “I’m sorry. How can I help, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know,” Tim said, and then the one thing that he did know. “I don’t want to lose the pack.”

“Never. I promise,” Dick said immediately. “You’ll never lose us.”

With Dick looking at him like that, it really did seem like everything might be alright somehow. “I know I promised you the fucking of your life,” Tim said shakily, “but do you think you could make love to me instead?”

“Oh, darling, with all the pleasure in the world.”

Dick kissed him the whole time, he was so gentle, so tender.

“Little bird, little bird, you’re perfect. Love you forever, angel. We all will. Always. Poor little thing. Oh, little one, you feel so good. Taste so sweet. Forgive me, forgive me.”

“Of course,” Tim couldn’t help but say back. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“I don’t even know—”

“Oh, Tim!” Dick let out a breathless little moan-laugh and rocked his hips a little faster. “You silly thing, you’re going to make me come, you know that?”

“Yes, I want it—”

“You want a nice knot to fill you, baby?”

“Yes! Yes!”

 _“Timmy.”_ Dick’s thrusts stuttered to a stop, and Tim’s moan joined his as they both came.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim receives a courting gift, yells at Jason, and actually tries to fight crime.

Tim’s alarm went off—properly ringing this time—and he stretched and got up while Dick, in the nest next to him, grumbled and pulled a pillow over his face.

Dick pulled the pillow off as Tim nudged at him and said, “Dick, how did _that_ get there?”

 _That_ was a large elegantly wrapped box, low to the ground and very long, with a card on the top.

They both peered at the card.

“It says _Childe Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne,”_ Tim said. “Why _Childe?_ I’m bonded.”

“That’s Bruce’s handwriting, isn’t it?”

Tim warily pulled the card off the top of the box and opened the envelope.

_Tim,_

_I would be honoured if you would accompany me into Gotham tonight wearing this, a sign of my intentions._ _I promise to return you whole and entire before midnight._ _I await your response on my knees._

_Yours,_

_Bruce Thomas Wayne_

“That’s like a courting proposal,” said Dick, reading over Tim’s shoulder, and snickered. “‘On his knees’, I know it’s a set phrase for courting omegas, but yeah right, Bruce. And Jesus, ‘whole and entire’—how old-fashioned and weird. That’s, like, a euphemism from a hundred years ago, it’s supposed to be a promise the alpha won’t try to force-bond the omega, but you’re already marked. By him!”

Tim put the note down and slid his hand into the seams of the wrapping paper, breaking the tape. The box inside had a lid, and when it pulled it off, there was a Robin uniform: thick green leggings made of some reinforced material, a red armoured leotard, green gloves, black boots, green domino, a black cape with a gold lining, a gold utility belt, and the crown of it all, the gold R insignia on its black field.

“Well goddamn, little bird,” Dick said, picking sleep dust from his eyes, “Damian’s going to start trying to kill you again.”

“No, Damian already knew,” Tim said, picking up the R badge. “We talked about it yesterday. Bruce told him first.”

“Why is he demoting you to Robin? Did something happen?”

“It’s not a demotion. I... we were fighting, and I said at one point that I was angry I never got to be the real Robin. I didn’t expect...” Tim ran his fingers over the badge. This was really happening.

“Wait, you _wanted_ to be Robin? God, little bird, you should have said something at the time.”

“I’m... not the greatest at speaking up for myself.”

“Well, that’s certainly true.” Dick tousled his hair and yawned. “I guess if it’s something you wanted, then congratulations. Super weird way for Bruce to go about it, but I guess that’s just Bruce. I’m gonna go back to my room and get ready for work.”

When Dick was gone, Tim, of course, put the costume on. His bedroom didn’t have a full length mirror, so he went into his bathroom.

Tim ran gloved fingers through his messy hair. The young man in the mirror did the same thing.

Robin.

It was a more modest costume than the one Dick and Jason had worn, it covered much more of his skin. And it wasn’t simply fabric, either, there was even more armoured elements than had been in his Red Robin and Macaw uniforms. The torso against firearms and the arms and legs against bladed weapons, he guessed.

Yet he felt exposed, because he was wearing, for the first time, a domino mask instead of a full cowl. There was a neck guard included in the costume, but even so. So much of his face was just... out there. He could see his ears and cheeks getting red in his reflection.

Then there was the note.

Tim knew that Bruce didn’t do things except deliberately. Addressing him as Childe, using such old-fashioned courting language, like something from a Jane Austen novel... Giving an omega clothes and asking them to be seen in public, wearing those clothes, with the alpha was something tantamount to an engagement in the old days. Not a formal agreement, not something that an omega couldn’t change their mind about, but something that indicated to other packs that for the time being the omega was only considering one offer.

Bruce was going to court him. Court him as if he actually had to win his consent to mate him, as if Tim had a choice.

Tim felt a lump in his throat as he considered how this would go, depending on how traditional or romantic Bruce wanted to be. Delicacies fed from Bruce’s hands, yeah, Bruce could do that and almost certainly would. Gifts of jewelry? Tim didn’t wear that kind of thing, he hoped Bruce knew him well enough to skip that. There was a tradition of not giving cut flowers but rather living plants to omegas, and that wouldn’t be bad...

Baby items... very, very traditional and correct, to give baby items to an omega while courting them... showing how well the pups would be cared for.

Tim cleared his throat.

——

On his way into breakfast, Tim handed Alfred a note for Bruce, accepting his invitation, and the beta slipped it into his apron pocket with a smile.

“We missed you yesterday,” Bart chatted next to Tim at the breakfast table. “Steph and Jay kept saying we were cheating but we weren’t cheating because we weren’t breaking any rules, right, and I was sure you’d back me up on that, Tim, wouldn’t you?”

“It is cheating,” said Steph, “it’s an obviously unfair advantage.”

“I think it can be an unfair advantage without cheating. I think Bart’s right that in order to be cheating, they have to be breaking a rule. But games and sports change rules all the time when new stuff happens that unbalances the game. Just introduce a rule, no super speed or super strength.”

“You’d never be able to prove it anyway,” said Connor, “unless we wanted to be caught.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at your plate.”

Tim looked down at his plate and then up at Connor. “What about it?”

“Look at it again,” Connor said.

The blueberries on his plate, which a second ago had been in a little dish, now spelled out BOO, slightly crooked.

“Agh,” said Tim, pulling back his chair a little, while Connor and Bart snickered. “Which one of you did that?!”

“It was me,” crowed Bart, wiggling in his chair. “You didn’t have a clue, didja! Not a clue!”

“When are you leaving Gotham?” Damian cut in, with _the sooner the better_ heavily implied.

“What’s it to you, pup?” said Connor, grinning.

“Father doesn’t want you here.”

“Damian, please don’t be rude. They’re guests, we should show good hospitality,” said Tim.

Damian huffed. _“Todd’s_ guests. Not the pack’s.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“With respect, Beaudam, it is not the same thing at all.”

Jason whistled. “So you finally got the brat acknowledging you, Timmy! Never thought you’d pull it off! Did you hear that? ‘With respect,’ he said.”

“You are a clown, Todd.”

“Jason, don’t antagonize him.”

“Whatever you say, baby,” said Jason, and leaned over from Tim’s other side and french kissed him, shoving his tongue into Tim’s mouth despite Tim not returning the kiss at all.

Damian pushed away from the table in disgust. “I have no appetite anymore.”

“Damian,” Tim appealed, but the pup left with his chin high. “Jason! I just said not to antagonize him!”

Jason laughed. “But it’s fun!”

“Only for you because you’re a _bully!”_ Tim shouted, almost at the top of his lungs, and throwing his fork down so hard and wildly that it hit his empty juice glass and broke it. All of which startled not only Jason and the rest of the people at the table, but Tim himself. He flushed, felt the complete silence pushing down on him like a weight, pushed away from the table and fled to his bedroom.

He was breathing hard and nearly having a panic attack when he got back to his room and leaned against the closed door.

That... that had not been a proportionate reaction to what was happening at that moment. That was a mental breakdown. Tim had snapped.

He wasn’t shouting about anything to do with Damian. It had been a sudden, overwhelming explosion of long-suppressed anger.

And the panic he was feeling now was because he was not, not, _not prepared_ to let Jason know just how much of that anger still boiled inside him. They were supposed to be over this. Jason was so much more considerate of his feelings now. And God, Tim had just totally humiliated Jason and himself in front of Connor, Bart, and Steph, too. He’d screamed at Jason like an insane person, broken a cup, and then ran away.

There was a knock on the other side of the door, a soft impact right between his shoulder blades.

“Tim, please let me in,” Jason said. “I can tell you’re freaking out in there. I’m not mad at you for yelling at me, I just want to know what’s going on.”

Tim let him in and went to his nest to huddle. If he was going to be insane then he was going to be insane wrapped in blankets.

Jason helped grab blankets for him, his face worried, though Tim was trying not to look at it. “Baby, I’m sorry I was being such an ass, really. But I get the feeling that there’s something more going on here. I’ve never felt you this unhappy and anxious before.”

“I’m a mess,” Tim managed.

Jason grabbed a tissue box. “Hey, hey, I’m the crybaby in this pack, right?”

Tim laughed despite himself as Jason wiped at his eyes with the tissue. Jason could always do that, make him laugh, even when he didn’t want to... “I’ve never seen you cry, what are you talking about?”

“Yeah, well, I actually cry a lot. You ask Connor or Bart, or Dick, or Bruce, even, they’ve seen me sobbing like a baby. Snot all over my chin and everything. I don’t look pretty like you do crying.”

“Shut up,” Tim cry-laughed.

“Don’t hate me ‘cause you’re beautiful,” Jason said, crumpling up the tissue in his hand.

“Oh my God,” Tim said, shaky, and freed his right hand from the blankets to run the heel of his hand over his eyes. “I don’t even know. It’s like. God. I thought I was over it. I should be over it, you’re not... you haven’t been, for a long time. I don’t know, but I just... I went crazy.”

“Oh. Oh, oh my God, of fucking course. I’m an idiot. You got triggered. Jesus.” Jason had pulled back with his eyes closed as if in pain, and Tim could feel it was almost akin to pain, his anguish.

“What?”

“God,” muttered Jason, and opened his eyes. “Okay, do you remember, when you first came to live in the manor, I always had ‘appointments’ on Tuesdays and Fridays? And I was probably usually extra douchey after?”

“Your doctor’s appointments?” Tim said, bewildered by the subject change.

“It was a _psychiatrist,”_ Jason spat out. “Bruce made me go. Post traumatic stress disorder specialist. The cover story was that I, Jason Todd, ward of billionaire Bruce Wayne, got kidnapped for ransom and during my captivity I got beaten with a crowbar and then the place I was being held blew up. Basically the same stuff I _did_ go through with Joker, skipping the minor detail that it was my fucking _birth mother_ who sold me out to him. And I didn’t want to go to the psychiatrist, but Bruce said he wouldn’t let me go back out as Robin unless I did. But at the time I really hated it. I _did_ learn some shit against my will, though, and one of those things was the concept of a ‘trigger’. That sometimes, if something happens that like... makes your brain track along the same rails as before... then it fires all the neurons in your brain and fucks you up like it’s happening again. Like, for me, for a long time, I couldn’t... like, cement flooring, I couldn’t go anywhere with cement flooring... we did something called ‘exposure therapy’ and it was pure fucking hell.”

Tim stared at Jason, his eyes wide. He had no idea that Jason had experienced something _that_ traumatizing; all that he had known was that Batman was going out without a Robin and that Batman was not the same, that Batman was in serious, serious trouble, even if he was a little pup and couldn’t figure out what that trouble was. Then Bruce agreed to take him in and he was told that Jason had been injured while ‘patrolling without authorization’ and that was it. Not that he had been beaten with a crowbar by the Joker after his birth mother—dear God—handed Jason over to him.

“So something about me saying ‘but it’s fun’ to you, or whatever, made your brain go back to the place you’d been before, and that’s why you went apeshit on me. Because you weren’t reacting to the stuff with Damian at all, you were letting out that pain you felt from back _then._ So that was on me.”

“Jason...” Tim felt terrible. “I didn’t know...”

Jason shook his head. “No, baby, I didn’t tell you that to make you think you overreacted. The opposite. I really did fuck you up, baby. It doesn’t matter that I was already a fucked up kid myself, like—” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Like, maybe it matters in terms of how guilty _I_ should feel about it—”

“I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Tim said immediately.

Jason smiled and reached out to cradle Tim’s face. “Of course you don’t, Timber, that’s why you’re the sweetest. But stop being an angel for five seconds and listen to what my point is. My point is, even if I was a fucked up kid, that doesn’t change that I fucked you up. You were 100% right, I was a bully—and still do tease more than I should. I fucked with you because I found it fun, making you squirm, making you cry. It made me feel dominant and in control—shit, I’m fucking psychoanalyzing myself already. Goddamnit. I’m really sorry, Tim. I’m so goddamn sorry that I hurt you—”

Tim would no longer be able to say that he hadn’t seen Jason cry, because Jason was crying, and he was proving what he had said earlier right, that when Jason cried he really went all out. Tim pulled him into the nest with him and licked and kissed at his throat.

“God, you really are a fucking angel Tim. What the fuck was wrong with me for so long, that I took you for granted.”

Tim could feel the words vibrating in Jason’s throat. He pulled away enough to be able to look his alpha in the eyes. “We’ll get through it. I wanna get through it, Jason.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“I want you anyway. Jerk.”

Jason laughed, and when Tim leaned in to kiss him, he returned it.

——

Bruce hadn’t made an appearance at breakfast, wasn’t at lunch, but was at dinner. Jason, Connor, and Bart weren’t there, but Dick, Steph, and Damian were.

Tim felt like he was waiting for a race to begin or something as he sat at his place at the foot of the table, opposite Bruce.

“A gazpacho to begin, sir,” said Alfred, serving Bruce first.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce said.

So far, so normal.

“There will be a change,” Bruce announced to the table as Alfred moved on to serving Dick.

Okay, not so normal.

“As some of you know, Tim will be taking the role of Robin starting tonight. Damian will be taking a break for training and focusing on his studies. He will also be responsible for the care and training of a German Shepherd puppy.”

“A puppy!” said Steph.

“Whatcha gonna name it, lil D?” said Dick.

“How about ‘Morality Test,’” said Damian, “since that is clearly the dog’s purpose.”

Dick laughed. “Can’t do that, we’d end up calling it Testy, and from there it’s a short hop to—”

“Dick,” warned Bruce.

“Not Dick, but nearby,” said Dick, and then held up his hands in mock surrender when Bruce glared. “Alright, alright! But choose an actual name, Damian. And something better than Batcow.”

“Batcow is a perfect name.”

Everyone kept talking about the puppy. Tim felt relieved that his new role was not the centre of everyone’s attention. That had been clever of Bruce, announcing both things together. Tim caught Bruce’s eye a moment and gave him a small smile, and Bruce smiled back.

——

The Bat Signal glowed in the sky, and on a rooftop in Gotham, Batman stepped out of the shadows, his Robin perched on the edge behind him.

“The unrest about the quarantine zone around Bludhaven,” Commissioner Gordon began. “You’ve heard about the protests, how people don’t think the quarantine is being kept strict enough. Just today, a truck driver went to deliver supplies to the hospital in Bludhaven. He didn’t even leave the truck, staff there did so, and they sprayed it down with sanitizer before he left. He cleared the checkpoint just fine, but when he got through it, there was a crowd of protestors, and they swarmed his cab, shouting at him to turn back. Instead he gunned it. Two people dead.”

“That sounds like improper crowd control,” Batman said.

“Well the mayor has been encouraging the protestors. She’s making ‘I’m the only one who cares about protecting you from this plague’ her reelection campaign. But these are mostly ordinary folks. I think if you put in an appearance or two, let people know you’re watching, it might help keep things from getting out of control again.”

“Put fear into them? They are already afraid.”

“I got no problem with them protesting, they just gotta do it peaceful,” said Gordon. “Whether they like it or not, some people have to leave the quarantine zone.”

“Commissioner,” spoke up Robin, and both men turned to peer into the darkness. “I’ve been working with a contact at the hospital in Bludhaven, and we think there’s a genetic reason why only some people are getting sick. My theory is that this is some kind of chemical pneumonia and that there are multiple, very public exposure points, places where vast numbers of people pass through, but not very many people live there, and that wouldn’t stick out easily to contact tracers. Like the parking garage of the mall, for instance, or the baseball field.”

“You think this is some kind of deliberate exposure?” said Gordon.

“Well the way that it started so suddenly, and spread so widely, makes me think so. Plus, if it is chemical like I’m thinking, then somebody ought to notice what’s changed... unless someone is deliberately hiding the thing that’s causing the illnesses.”

“To what purpose?” said Batman.

“I don’t know, I have some further theories though. It might be a kind of test run. See how well the authorities do handling a mysterious illness, how soon they put quarantines in place, which exposure points infect the most people... fine tune your approach, and then try again with a much deadlier agent.” Robin thought a moment. “Or, what you just said, the political aspect. If the perpetrator waits a few more days and then releases whatever the substance is here in Gotham... there’s a lot of political damage that could be done with that. Against the mayor, or the mayor could blame the state for not sufficiently quarantining the other city, and then it could damage the governor. I mean, it’s a big election year, he’s up for reelection in November too, right?”

Gordon whistled. “Chemical warfare...”

“It’s just a theory that depends on another theory,” Robin hastened to qualify.

“I’ll see what I can find,” Batman said.

——

They flew over Bludhaven in Batman’s stealth helicopter, talked about Robin’s findings, noted anomalies and points of interest in the sleeping, curfewed city below.

“We’ll want a full team to put boots on the ground,” Batman said into the comms, and Robin nodded as the helicopter turned back towards Gotham.

They flew and there was no sound but the loud rushing of the blades penetrating their ear protection as a mellow hush.

It made Robin sleepy, and he was yawning when the helicopter landed and entered the secret tunnel to carry it back to the Batcave.

“Don’t fall asleep yet, Robin.”

“Sorry.” Robin sat up straight.

“I’ll take...” Batman stopped. “May I... carry you inside?”

Robin’s heart thumped. Batman—Bruce, neither—had ever asked something like that. Bruce—Batman simply announced what he was going to do and Tim accepted it, always. Or didn’t even announce, actually, when it came to carrying him; a lot of times Tim just found himself being hoisted into the air.

Robin almost opened his mouth and said _of course._ Because he was glad Batman was asking, shouldn’t he reward it?

But what came out of his mouth, when he opened it, was a very cool, “Not this time.”

He felt stupid, because he knew Bruce could tell that he wasn’t anything like as cool and composed as his tone and his posture suggested.

Batman didn’t say anything more as the helicopter was slowly tracked along into its place in the garage. When it had parked and they stood up, he hit the button to open the door and then said, without looking over his shoulder at Robin, “I have a gift for you.”

Robin climbed out of the helicopter after Batman, and followed him in silence into the main part of the cave, where Batman opened a cabinet, removed a gift wrapped package from it, turned around, and went down on his knees.

Very traditional, for courting alphas to go on their knees to invite omegas to approach them. Made the alpha symbolically less threatening.

Robin pulled off the domino and didn’t reach for the gift. “Is this all supposed to be some kind of... us starting over? Because I don’t think that’s possible. I can’t forget everything. That’s the whole problem.”

“It isn’t... I know it’s insufficient. I know. I am trying to think of better things, but in the meantime, I wanted to make it clear that I am trying.” Batman reached up and pulled off his cowl, too. “I’m going to keep trying, Tim. Every courting gesture I do for you, I mean it to show you that you are worthy of every effort I can make.”

 _Worthy._ Oh, unfair, unfair, to use that word. Tim reached out and took the package, which was very soft. Clothes? He tore open the paper. Not clothes, but a kind of adhesive padding for sticking to hard parts of a nest; headboards, support frames, that kind of thing. Bruce had scented it, too.

Tim looked up, or rather down, at Bruce. “This looks useful. Thank you.”

Bruce bowed his head. “I hope I may give you even more.”

——

When Tim had gotten back to his room and changed for bed, he eyed his nest, considering. Instinctively he wanted to add this new exciting thing into his nest, despite being tired. He decided he would just wrap the bedknobs.

As he worked, there was a soft knock at the door and a low voice. “Can I come in?”

Jason. “Yeah,” called Tim.

Jason had on boxers and slippers and nothing else. “I was wondering if I could sleep in your nest.”

“Just sleep?” said Tim, a little skeptical. “Because I’m pretty tired.”

“Yeah, just sleep. I’m... I don’t know. This is embarrassing. I was trying to sleep in my room and I just kept worrying about you. I know you were with the old man and there’s no way in hell he’d ever let you get hurt, but...”

“Awww,” said Tim, and enjoyed how Jason reddened a little more. “Yeah, okay, let me just finish this bedknob and then you can hit the lights.”

Snuggled together in the nest, Jason put his arms around Tim’s waist.

“Jason.”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask one question before we sleep?”

“Yeah, what?”

“You really want pups, right?”

“...Yeah.” Rough fingertips shifted a little on Tim’s abdomen.

“Why?”

“Why?” Jason sounded and felt a little surprised. He hummed a little against the top of Tim’s head as he considered. “Well. I guess I like pups. Before I met Bruce, there was this lady in the same apartment building as me. She used to pay me $5 a night to stay at her apartment and watch her baby while she worked. I was only like seven but she was a drug addict and a prostitute so I probably seemed like a great idea to her. I really liked taking care of the baby... After about six months though she didn’t come home one night, and I didn’t know what to do, because I had to go to school, so I did the dumb thing and called the cops and told them there was a baby alone in apartment 6. The lady had gotten picked up for prostitution and then because I ratted her out she got nailed for child endangerment too. I never saw the baby again, I’m sure they put him in foster care. Wonder what he’s like now. He’d be a little younger than Damian...”

There was a short silence.

“Jesus,” said Jason, “don’t know why I didn’t just say ‘I like pups’ and stop there.”

“No, I’m glad you told me,” said Tim. “I want to understand you more.”

Jason shivered a little.

“I don’t really have experience with pups. I mean, there’s Damian, but he’s... Damian.”

“You’ll be the best dam ever. That’s another part of it. Wanting pups with _you,_ baby. Whether I’m the sire or not.”

Tim yawned, not faked. “Well, that was my question, anyway.”

“Night, baby.”

“Night, Jay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo where do I go to find good (and pro-kink/pro-ship) Batman fandom art? Where's the community more active? I have a Twitter, [99ProbsFicAint1](https://twitter.com/99ProbsFicAint1), and I'd love to know what kind of search terms I should use to find good stuff (and avoid antis).


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations begin to investigate the Bludhaven illness. Tim goes to therapy and has some kinky sex with Dick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the age play tag has been added.

"So we’ll need to bag up all external clothing and any tools after leaving the zone, before landing,” said Tim, “because if it is an environmental contaminant, we can’t risk that we might take it with us, especially when we only have theories as to how it works.”

“I’ve made a note of it,” said Bruce, with his back to the rest of them, at the console.

Steph let out a big huff of air, dropped out of her plank, and didn’t start another one.

“Two more planks in that set,” Bruce said.

Steph gave his back the finger, but then struggled back into a plank.

“Dick with Stephanie,” said Bruce, “and Jason with Tim. I’ll be staying in the copter to pick you up or provide back-up if necessary. Remember there’s a curfew in progress in the quarantine zone. Oracle will keep us updated about Bludhaven police movements, but avoid attracting attention.”

They went over more possibilities and strategies for their upcoming excursion into Bludhaven, mostly Tim and Bruce, but Dick and Jason chiming in here and there, and usually with useful points. Steph just continued to work out. This would be her first official mission as Batgirl—but she wasn’t even going to be dressing as Batgirl. The Bats couldn’t be seen in the quarantine zone because if footage or even just rumours spread that they were there, that would increase the panic that the illness would spread to Gotham City.

“How about if Steph comes with me tonight while I check my safe houses,” Dick said. “I haven’t been there since I quit the force, so they‘ll need a clean at least. It’ll give me and Steph a chance to see how we work together.”

“Fine. It’s nearly half past, Dick, you need to head to work.”

It was said to Dick, but the reminder of the time also hit someone else. Tim stood up and tried not to feel self-conscious as he left for his first therapy appointment.

——

Tim sat on the corner of the plush daybed, hands folded in his lap, trying and failing not to appear stiff and uncomfortable as he looked at the notebook in the hands of the psychologist sitting in an expensive leather office chair across from him. It was the same model Bruce used, and that felt like a sign, but Tim wasn’t sure if it was a good sign or a bad sign.

“So it may put you a little at ease to know that I specialize in the treatment of people whose packs attempted to make them omegas through sexual contact. I have heard all kinds of things, and it is extremely unlikely that anything you can say will shock me, and I can promise that whatever you have to say will not cause me to judge you. Judgment is not what we are here to do.” The psychologist—Upkar Singh—was an omega male, with a soft, steady voice.

“Does it... still happen a lot then?” Tim said, still looking at the notebook, at the pencil tip sitting just there, against the paper, not moving.

“Unfortunately yes.”

Tim looked up and met the man’s eyes. “If Bruce Wayne hired you, and is paying you, then Bruce Wayne is really your client, doesn’t that follow?”

“An interesting question.” Upkar tapped his pencil against the paper a moment. “You’re not wrong to be cautious. Is your concern that I will repeat to Mr. Wayne what you say? If it is, I can assure you that I will not, and have already made that clear to him. Mr. Wayne has hired me to perform the service of using my education and experience to assist your mental health. I assume part of why he hired me is my reputation for integrity. Perhaps you can trust my self-interest in mantaining that reputation.”

“Do I have to tell you every thing that happened? And don’t double talk that I don‘t have to do anything. I mean what do you expect from me?”

Upkar smiled. “You are very wary, and that isn’t a bad thing.“

The psychologist explained some philosophies of psychotherapy briefly and mentioned that his own practice focused on something called acceptance and commitment therapy. It was based on a philosophy that it is attempts to avoid emotional pain that end up causing more suffering. Instead, one mindfully accepts one’s fear or sadness and commits to action consistent with one’s values.

“So you just... let yourself be sad?” said Tim. This didn’t sound like therapy.

“It is rather counterintuitive at first hearing, but it has empirical evidence. If you’re familiar with the idea of desensitizing, there is a parallel there. If you learn to take a step back, to separate yourself from your thought, from your feeling, and to observe it, and let it occur, and let it dissipate; then over time, for many people, the distress you feel from it will lessen. In addition, you save all the energy and time you expend in things like worrying about worrying, or avoiding things you truly want or need to do because of your fear and sadness. That said, I don’t believe there is one approach that works for every mind. If you find you are not making progress with this method, I can certainly refer you to others who practice other methods... cognitive behavioural, dialectical behavioural, psychoanalytic...”

“Is it like exposure therapy?” said Tim, thinking of Jason.

“Exposure to triggers for the purpose of lessening fear and anxiety, or for reenacting and taking control of your memory, I think this principle is used by most behavioural therapists these days. It is a taxing process and depends on a significant time investment but the rewards are lasting.” Upkar paused a moment. “Discussing what happened to you in the past is, in itself, a form of exposure to a trigger. That is why many people find recounting their past traumas in detail helps lessen the power of these dark memories. So when you ask, do you _have_ to tell me _everything_ that happened to you, you don’t. But you might find that consciously choosing to recount the memories—even in writing form that you then destroy without showing to anyone—eases the negative emotions attached to them.”

This sounded more like therapy. It sounded pretty damn awful. Tim rubbed his arm.

“How about we start by talking about values and goals,” Upkar suggested, leaning back a little in his chair. “The positive things in your life, the things you want to keep and expand.” `

Tim talked about his pack; about the desire to do good in the world together, allowing the misleading implication that this was connected to Wayne Enterprises’ innovative technology or charitable endeavours. About how he had idolized Mr. Wayne before meeting him and that being the Wayne pack omega was a dream come true.

“A dream come true,” Upkar repeated, “so there are things about it that make you happy, fulfilled?”

“Yes, I—I love them, and I know they love me, too, and they’re doing such good in the world, even... yes.”

Upkar nodded. “Tell me about your pack members, what do each of them bring to the pack? You are bonded with three alphas, as I understand—Mr. Wayne and his sons?”

“Yes... they...” Tim pinched himself lightly. “They’re very... private.”

“That is an interesting thing to say.” The pencil tapped against the paper again. “Bruce Wayne has courted scandalous publicity for more than twenty years, although he curtailed most of it when he brought you into his house. I’ve never heard him described as _private._ Do you mean he has a side he only shows his pack?”

“Yes,” said Tim, mentally appending _understatement._

Upkar wrote something down. “If I understand correctly, at the time you moved in, the elder son had moved out of the pack house and entered a police academy, hardly an expected career path; and the younger son, well, the news stories said that he was hurt in an accident at home, but they also reported that he was infamous at his school by age thirteen for getting in fights with classmates and skipping class to go who knows where.”

Upkar looked at Tim, and Tim looked at Upkar.

“So when you moved in... Mr. Wayne wanted an omega right away, perhaps? Or someone to serve the role of one?”

“Is it so obvious,” Tim said, hollow.

“I don’t have any mind reading powers. You are seeking the services of a therapist specializing in omega grooming trauma,” Upkar said with compassion. “In my experience, much of the time omega grooming is as much about forcing a pup into the _role_ of omega as it is an attempt at influencing future presentation. To make the pup serve as a mediator and unifier for the pack.” A beat. “Does that feel true to your experience?”

Tim considered this question carefully. Not about whether it was true or not; obviously it was. But was he actually going to make that admission? That would be a start into this whole therapy... thing.

At the same time, it wasn’t admitting too much, was it? Talking about being expected to be pack mediator was a safer topic than talking about being... touched, and being deceived and tormented with fear because of that deceit.

Wasn’t it?

“This is really messed up,” Tim said suddenly, crossing his arms. “I’m just supposed to accept being scared and sad for the rest of my life, and swallow it down until I get numb to it, so I can keep being the omega for the pack? Is that what ‘acceptance and commitment’ is all about?”

“When I asked you about your values, you mentioned your pack first, last, and throughout, and specifically called being your pack’s omega a dream come true. Now I’m hearing a lot of anger and pain at the idea. Let’s try this. I’m going to say something, and I’d like you to sit with it for a minute before you tell me how you feel about it.” He leaned forward a little. “You should leave your pack because what they did to you is unforgivable. It would be wrong to let them get away with it, and you will only be happy when you leave.” Upkar sat back. “Okay, take one minute now.”

Tim felt cold in his chest and his stomach, little burning twinges in his face. He agreed. He didn’t agree. He hated it. He felt validated. He didn’t want it, he didn’t want to leave, and that made him feel dirty and guilty...

“Okay, that’s one minute,” Upkar said, “what do you think about what I said?”

“I don’t want to leave my pack but... I don’t want what you said to be true, but it’s like... I _do_ want someone to say it. I want to be told that they were all wrong all the way and it’s all their fault. But like... this is messed up, it’s like I want to be told that they shouldn’t get away with it, but I also want even more to be with them, so if they shouldn’t get away with it but I’m letting them get away with it... if I _like_ being with them... then I’m the... I don’t know... worse than trash.” He forced a chuckle.

“Do you like being with them?”

“Yes,” said Tim, looking at the carpet. “I really do. Even—”

“Even...?”

Tim reddened. “Even sex...”

“It’s okay to enjoy sex.”

“I know that, but...”

Upkar gestured to continue.

“Sometimes it’s like... it’s almost like... not all the time, but sometimes, the... the messed-up-ness is part of what I enjoy and it’s like... is something permanently wrong with me?”

“Suppose there is something permanently wrong with your sexual proclivities. Do you think a fulfilling, happy life would still be possible?”

“I... don’t know? Maybe... I mean aren’t you supposed to not be messed up?”

“Who says?”

“I don’t know,” Tim said, and chuckled, for real this time. “Society, I guess.”

“Suppose that it’s impossible not to be messed up, but it is possible to accept yourself and to choose a path forward that you feel good about anyway. To be messed up but also functional and happy.”

“Maybe that is the only way I can get what I want,” mused Tim. “I still feel like it _shouldn’t_ be possible. Like on the one hand I shouldn’t want what I want, and on the other hand... I don’t even know what’s on the other hand. I don’t know. Like maybe I’m just fooling myself that I want it because I can’t imagine any alternative.”

“Well, I’d like you to leave open the possibility that what you want could change. Not that it _should_ change, but that it _could_ change.”

“Okay,” Tim nodded, then added hesitantly, “you really think it might be possible to find a way to be happy _with_ my pack?”

“Possible, certaintly, but I want you to recognize that it isn’t entirely under your control. Any situation that involves other people can never be entirely under your control.”

“But it isn’t like... morally wrong for me to be happy with them?” Tim said, and then felt like it was a weird thing to say, at least out loud.

“I can hear that you care a lot about doing the right thing,” Upkar said. “I will say that in my opinion, a trauma survivor is owed a lot of happiness by the universe, and if they can get that happiness in a way that doesn’t cause someone, including themselves, harm, then that is a moral good. Recall what I said earlier about exposure lessening the intensity of traumatic memories. When you create new experiences, experiences where you feel more control, that are similar to past situations that were extremely negative and where you were helpless... I think the principle of it overall helping your emotional pain and reinventing it is sound. Now, it is possible to cope with trauma in ways that are self-destructive, and continuing to expose yourself to a person that is actively continuing to manipulate or hurt you would be self-harmful. We haven’t spoken yet much about your pack and bond dynamics, but we’ll get there. You strike me as very analytical and perceptive, in addition to cautious. Here’s what I’ll say now: if you want to be with them right now, even if the way you want to be with them is ‘messed-up’, you shouldn’t assign yourself guilt or blame for it; and if you someday want to no longer be with them, you shouldn’t assign yourself guilt or blame that you once wanted to be with them in a ‘messed-up’ way.”

Tim felt a rope around his heart loosen, just a little.

——

“Hi Timmy,” said Dick cheerfully when Tim came into his office. “What can I do for you?”

Tim shut and locked the door, walked in, pushed Dick’s rolling office chair back from his desk a bit and got into Dick’s lap, facing him.

“Oh, _hi,_ Timmy,” Dick murmured, as Tim took hold of his lapels. “What can I do for you?”

“Do you remember how Bruce never let you sleep in my bed at first? Not until my thirteenth birthday? But there was that one night you snuck in? You remember it?”

“God, of course I do,” groaned Dick. “It was so wonderful... up until Bruce caught me and hauled me out the damn window. Scruffed me and pushed my face into the mud, which was _freezing_ cold, and—”

Tim pressed a finger to his lips to stop him talking. “But do you remember some of the things you were saying to me before Bruce came in?”

Dick’s breath caught. “...You were asleep.”

“I was faking it,” Tim said. “I loved having you in bed with me so much, I didn’t want to sleep, but you said I needed my rest and that you’d leave if I didn’t try. And you sang to me to try to get me to sleep but then after you sang, when you thought I was asleep, you started whispering things.”

“You weren’t...” Dick swallowed. “I don’t remember exactly, but I know I was saying stuff that was...”

“You said you wanted to touch me all over,” Tim said, hushed, leaning in to almost brush his nose against Dick’s. “You said I was so cute and sweet and you wanted to be inside me so bad you didn’t know how you could wait years to do it. You said...” Tim had to take a moment to be able to say it. “You wanted to fuck my ass, but you thought I’d probably be too small to take your cock.”

Dick was embarrassed, even without the ability to feel his emotions, Tim could tell from his face. “Yeah...”

“I want you to come to my room tonight,” Tim whispered. “Like back then, like when you snuck in. But as if we could get away with it. Like you could get away with fucking my cute little ass.”

Dick’s eyes widened and the pupils dilated. “Baby bird,” he whispered back. “Are you asking for what I think you’re asking for...?”

“Yeah. Do you want to do it?”

“Oh God. You can’t be asking for... I don’t just mean anal, I mean... are you asking for me to... treat it like you’re a pup again...? _You_ really want that? I don’t... Tim, I’m probably fucked in the head, don’t think you have to do this for me, it’s not...”

“No. I want it for me.” Tim breathed in and out, and then repeated it at a soft speaking volume rather than a whisper. “I want it for me. Even if it’s fucked up. I’ve been thinking about it and I want to try... We can use a safe word. Pneumonia.”

Dick chuckled. “Okay, yeah, definite mood breaker there. Pneumonia.”

——

Tim took a shower after douching. For his first time, he wanted to try to make it more clean, especially because if Dick knotted him they might be stuck.

Dick was in Bludhaven with Stephanie while Jason was out with Bruce, so the manor had been quiet all evening. Tim didn’t know how long it would take Dick to scope out his safe houses, but it could potentially be a while.

He put on his Nightwing boxers and oversized t-shirt set that Dick gave him for his birthday when he was fourteen. He brushed his teeth, checked the locks on the windows and door, turned out the light, and went to bed.

Then he got out of bed, turned the lights back on, and went rummaging around in a chest he rarely opened, where he pulled out a big stuffed duck, the one that he sometimes slept with when he first came to the manor, secretly, because he knew that if Jason ever found out he’d be teased mercilessly for it.

Ducky was pale yellow originally but had been loved over the years into more of a dingy tan. Tim hadn’t taken out Ducky since Bruce started allowing the others to sleepover with him.

Tim turned out the light again and got under the sheet and light blanket with Ducky.

Ducky smelled like cedar from being in the chest all that time. It wasn’t a bad smell. Tim played idly with Ducky’s foot while resting his cheek on the little fluff on the top of his head.

He wondered who gave Ducky to him. His parents? Someone else? He couldn’t remember not having Ducky, so it must have been when he was very young.

Tim actually did fall asleep before he was awoken by the sound of the window lock being picked. It didn’t take Dick long to have it open and slide through it.

“Little bir-rd,” Dick sing-songed quietly. “You awake?”

Tim sat up with a yawn, absent-mindedly holding onto Duck. “Dick?”

“Bruce isn’t home tonight, so I thought I’d see if I could keep you company a little while, if you’d like it. Just as our secret, right?”

“Yes! Yes, I’d like it—I can keep it secret!” Tim whisper-shouted, and Dick grinned.

Dick closed the window and relocked it. “Scoot over.”

Tim obliged, pushing Ducky under a pillow hastily. Dick set something—a bag?—down on the nightstand before getting in bed and spooning him.

Tim grabbed onto one of Dick’s hands, interlacing the fingers with his own and snuggling tighter.

“My sweet little bird.” Dick lifted his head a little to drop a kiss on the shell of Tim’s ear, then laid back down to nuzzle his hair. “You smell so clean.”

“Well... I showered before bed...”

There was a silence, nothing but the feeling of Dick’s breath on the back of his head, the sense of Dick’s intent focus on him. Tim wanted to squirm, he was so keyed up.

“Tim.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m just... so happy I get to be alone with you like this... You’re so cute, Timmy, you have no idea...” His words were innocent, but his tone was not.

Ordinarily Tim would never accept a compliment, but today, he got to pretend. “Why do you think I’m cute?”

Dick’s chuckle tickled the small hairs on the back of Tim’s neck. “Mm, so many things. Your enthusiasm, the funny little faces you make... the way you look at _me..._ those soft little lips...” Dick brought their joined hands up to Tim’s mouth, so that Tim kissed his own knuckles. “These darling little hands... and how small those hands and those lips look next to my cock.”

This sudden swerve from sweetness to depravity had Tim gasping, and as he stiffened, Dick pulled their bodies closer together, rubbing the bulge in his sweatpants against Tim’s ass.

“You always say that I’m your hero, baby,” Dick said, rubbing circles against Tim’s palm with his thumb while grinding against his butt, “but I always wanna do such bad, bad things to you...”

“I... I like doing... you know... things, _things,_ with you too,” Tim managed. “When, when you touch me it feels good and... and I like making you feel good, and...”

“Oh, I’m talking about more than just the things Bruce lets me do, baby bird.” Dick nipped at his earlobe and practically growled. “I want to _fuck_ you.”

“But I’m... it hasn’t... I’m not an omega yet, so how...?”

“You know that porn you watch with Jason?”

“I... I...”

“Oh, don’t worry baby bird, I’m not gonna tell on Jason. I know Bruce thinks you’re too young to see that kind of thing. Too young to know that an alpha can fuck an omega’s cute little asshole and have just as much fun as fucking a pussy.”

“Dick,” Tim whined, but he was already kind of floating, in himself and not in himself, letting himself be embarrassed without feeling guilt about it.

“But your tight little butt, Tim... even with lube, even with me prepping you... do you think it could take a grown alpha’s cock, baby bird? God, I don’t want to hurt you...”

This last came out with an unexpected sincerity and even a slight pang of guilt, more resonant to Tim because he had just been enjoying _not_ feeling guilty.

Tim twisted in Dick’s arms and put his hands up to Dick’s face, though he could barely see its beloved features in the dark.

“I’d tell you,” he said. “If you hurt me, I’ll tell you, and you’ll stop, and you’ll comfort me. I know you will. Because you’re still my hero.”

Dick didn’t answer in words, but he surged forward to kiss him, and then his hands were all over Tim, fumbling at the too-tight shirt before abandoning it as unessential and moving to free Tim from his boxers and himself from his bottoms as well.

“I have lube in the bag,” Dick said quietly, breaking their embrace and sitting up. “You think you can get on your hands and knees for me, baby bird? With that cute butt up for me.”

Tim did as he asked, his shirt still hiked up around his armpits like a bad crop top from Dick’s aborted attempt to pull it off.

There was a sound of packaging opening, then a squirting sound.

“I’m gonna go real slow, little one,” Dick cooed as Tim felt the mattress sink behind him with his weight. “Just one finger.”

Tim reflexively jumped a little as the cool, lubed up fingertip pressed against the bud of his hole, pushing on it gently without forcing it inside.

“Okay, sweetheart, I know this is scary, but relax, okay? Can you relax for me, Timmy? Let my finger in?”

Tim breathed in and out, and the finger slipped in slowly.

“Oh, you’re such a good boy,” Dick said, and Tim glowed. “Such a good boy for me. Letting me do this to you. How does it feel?”

“It... it feels funny, Dick...”

“Does it hurt?”

“No...” Tim took a deep breath again. “I think I can take another finger.”

“That’s my Tim. Always trying so hard.” Dick pulled the finger almost out, there was another squirt, and then a second finger was joining the first.

“It’s cold!” Tim complained, clenching on the fingers.

“Sorry, I know it’s cold, but it’ll warm up really fast, promise. I know what I’m doing, little one, you can trust me. Try to relax again.”

Tim huffed and turned his face on the mattress, and Dick laughed.

“Oh, jealous little bird, huh?” The two fingers began to move. “Yeah, that was mean, saying something like that, making you think about people I’ve been with other than you... you’re not my first, baby bird, but you’re my only now, I promise.” The fingers began working in a stretching way, and a third joined them. “Still no pain, honey?”

Tim didn’t answer for a moment, then he said, “You’ll be _my_ first, you know, Dick.”

The fingers paused, and Tim could feel how he was _open_ down there, and it both thrilled and terrified him.

“Oh, on second thought, little one,” Dick said, with a slight strain in his voice, “I think we had better have you sit in my lap for this so you can control the speed. I’m not... sure if I can trust myself right now.”

Dick pulled away, and as Tim rolled over and sat up, he could see that Dick was adjusting a condom, then reaching to squirt even more lube on it.

Dick patted his thighs, and Tim crawled over to him. Dick hoisted him around so that they were facing the same direction, Tim way up on his knees.

“You just lower yourself down onto me,” Dick whispered, and kissed at the bunched up fabric of his shirt. “I’ll guide myself in, here.”

Dick’s hands went to his butt, stroking at his loosened hole, positioning the tip of his cock beneath it.

“It’s right there, baby bird... if you want it.”

Now was the perfect time to back out, if he didn’t want it.

Tim did want it.

Tim began to lower himself down. The immense quantities of lube that had seemed excessive just seconds ago now felt absolutely necessary. It wasn’t like his first time having vaginal sex, where everything had just been instinct. This was a process. But it was a process that Tim was absolutely loving, not so much because of how it felt, yet, but because of how Dick was talking to him and _feeling_ about him.

“Oh wow, oh, _baby,_ darling, angel, what a good little _doll_ you are for me, oh, just like that Timmy, that’s it, keep going, little bird, you can do it, a little more, yes, yes, oh, you’re doing so good for me, honey, _oh._ Oooh God I wish I could see how you’re taking me. Keep... ah... al-almost there, baby boy, oh, sweetheart, you’ve almost taken me all the way already, that’s it, that’s it, yes, _Tim!”_

Love, adoration, sublime devotion.

Tim nestled firmly into Dick’s lap and breathed. Dick wasn’t small and he felt even _bigger_ like this, in his ass, but he had done it.

“Tim,” Dick said fervently, breaking up his speech by pressing kisses against his shoulders and neck, nuzzling his hair, “such a—good boy—my Tim—little angel—it’s so tight—can’t believe my cock’s inside that—God—that cute little butt!”

Tim wasn’t sure what to do, for a moment, and then realized that because they were pretending he could lean into that. “What do I do now, Dick? I... I don’t know if I can be... like those omegas in porn...”

“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t have to be,” Dick said immediately, “I don’t _want_ you to be, baby bird, you’re doing perfect. You just lift yourself at your own pace, see if you can find a rhythm and an angle that feels good.”

Tim started rocking, and now that he wasn’t totally focused on just the size of Dick, he did notice that there was a spot inside that felt good being rubbed against, at the front, not too far inside. He leaned back into Dick to chase it.

“Do you feel good—want you to feel good—you’re making me feel _so_ good, baby bird—”

“Yeah—Dick—it does—”

“Can I touch you here?” Dick put one hand, still with a little lube on it, on Tim’s penis, and Tim nearly shouted as this position allowed him to fuck Dick’s hand with the same motion that he rose and lowered himself on Dick’s cock.

Tim arched his neck back and keened as he felt Dick nipping at the back of his neck, almost breaking the skin, but shying away to press another hot kiss to the top of his spine.

“Dick, I’m, I’m gonna come, I’m coming—”

Tim’s movement stuttered as his orgasm weakened him, and Dick said urgently, “Let me knot you, can I knot you, quick—”

“Yeah—” Tim said without really hearing what he was being asked, and then he was being caught and held firm, and ohhhhh shit if he’d thought Dick felt bigger back there before, he didn’t know how big it could get.

“Dick, no, wait,” he cried out, scared, and blindly started to try to pull off.

“Timmy, hold still, you’re gonna hurt yourself, relax, relax.” Dick didn’t let him go.

“It’s too much, it hurts—” He thought of his safe word but knew this wasn’t a safe word situation. Dick’s knot was in him and he was stuck.

“Shhh, I’m sorry but we can’t pull apart yet honey, it’ll hurt more if you pull. Listen to my voice, can you breathe slower for me? In... and relax when you breathe out... In...”

Tim’s breath was still coming fast and shallow. “Bite my neck,” Tim said, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to keep off the panic attack.

When the teeth pierced his skin he seized up for a moment, then Tim felt all the tension leave his body so fast he genuinely heard a whoosh, which didn’t make sense, unless it was the blood in his ears? Dick was biting him again, and Tim sagged back against him. There was still a weird, blurry anxiety happening, but it felt external, and Tim sluggishly thought it must be Dick worrying about him.

“There we go, honey,” Dick said, and licked the wounds. “Good idea, Timmy, you’re so smart. My little genius. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I got carried away in the moment, I shouldn’t have knotted you. Soon as it goes down I’ll get it out, promise.”

“S’ok...” Tim slurred. “Doesn’... hurt ‘nymore.” In fact... now that he wasn’t panicking and had been forcibly, totally relaxed... Dick’s knot was putting a firm pressure against that same spot inside him that had helped him come. It actually felt pretty good. “S’good now.”

But the external anxiety got more intense, which was confusing, until Tim heard a strange thump, then the sound of a key turning in a lock. The door banged open.

Batman switched on the lights, and Tim squeezed his eyes shut again and whimpered. “What did you do?” he snarled at Dick.

“He’s fine, Bruce—”

“I got an alert that someone broke in his window. Was that you?” Bruce pulled off his cowl.

“Uh, yes...”

“Why would you break in his window? Why was his phone off? Why did I feel him panicking just now?” Bruce was filling up the room with his angry pheromones, and Tim whimpered again and tried to expose his throat, letting his head loll back.

Dick kept one arm wrapped around Tim but held up the other spread in a ‘calm down’ gesture. “Bruce, now _you’re_ freaking him out, okay? Sorry, it didn’t occur to me that of course you would have Timmy’s windows set to alert you of break-ins, but we were just having sex, okay? I snuck in the window to make it more exciting. I assume his phone is off because he didn’t want to be disturbed. He was panicking because... I knotted his ass, okay? He said I could, it just got too much once it was happening, so he asked me to bite his neck to help him calm down and take it. So everything’s fine.”

“I left Jason out there without back-up to rush here and you’re telling me it’s _fine?”_ Bruce sounded irritated, still, but then he turned his gaze from Dick to Tim and sighed. Back to Dick. “We are going to have words later.”

“Okay, okay, fine, but come tell Timmy it’s okay and you’re not mad at him. C’mon, look at him and you can’t stay mad. Doesn’t he look beautiful?”

“Of course he does.” Bruce smiled and walked towards the edge of the bed, but the angry pheromones still in the air made Tim’s heart beat fast and his breathing rough. Bruce sat on the edge of the bed, pulled off his glove, and reached out for Tim’s face slowly. “I’m not angry with you, Tim. I was only worried about you.”

The big hand cradling his jaw was warm, and Tim closed his eyes as he calmed down.

“He took to anal like a champ,” Dick said, and kissed his shoulder. “He was amazing, so good for me.”

“I’m sure he was. We are... incredibly lucky, to have him.” Bruce’s thumb caressed his chin and up to his lower lip, and Tim opened his mouth to suckle on the tip, eyes still closed, but he heard Bruce’s surprised little _oh._

“Hey,” Dick said mischievously, “I bet we can even do double penetration with him. You’d like being that full, wouldn’t you Tim? Would you like Bruce to fill up your pussy?”

“Mmmm,” said Tim around Bruce’s thumb.

Bruce pulled his hand back, and said with a tight voice, “He’s bite-drunk, Dick. You shouldn’t ask him things like that.”

Tim opened his eyes and looked at Bruce. His mind was definitely still hazy, and he knew it was hazy, but... “Not... not sex,” he managed, “but cuddle? Stay?”

“I...” Bruce was hesitating, but Tim frowned, and he said, “I will. Of course.”

Bruce took off the rest of the suit, and Dick’s knot receded enough for him to carefully pull out, gripping the end of the condom. He laid Tim down on his front and whistled. “Wow, little bird. What a sight.”

Tim didn’t bother trying to figure that one out. He turned his face on the pillow and squirmed a little. His butt felt weird, but it didn’t hurt, at least.

Bruce still had his briefs on when he got into the bed again, but he only took Tim’s hand and touched him no where else, leaving a wide space between their bodies.

Tim glared at him. _“Cuddle.”_

Dick laughed, coming back to the bed with his boxers back on. “You heard him, Bruce.”

“I... when Tim’s in his right mind, he isn’t... happy with me right now. I don’t want to cross his boundaries.”

“You don’... don’ wanna... boun’ries?” The thick voice coming out of his mouth sounded so stupid, and somehow that just lit a flame under the spark of anger he was feeling. He was stupid. He was stupid and angry and unhappy and pathetic. “Boundaries... I jus’... just wanted... you never stayed...” Tim started to cry. “I wanted... you to stay!”

“Oh, Tim,” said Dick, and reached for him, but Bruce had pulled him onto his chest.

“Never stayed,” Tim hiccuped into Bruce’s chest hair, “you... never stayed! Wouldn’.. nobody stayed!”

“I’m sorry.” Bruce’s voice rumbled in the chest beneath him. “I’m sorry, Tim.”

“Just want... be with you... ‘m so stu... stupid...” Tim couldn’t stop crying, even though he was getting tears and drool and snot all over Bruce’s perfectly sculpted chest. Bruce was rubbing his back, and there was another hand stroking his hair that must be Dick’s.

“You’re not stupid. I was the wrong one. It was my fault, Tim. I’ll stay now. As long as you want me, I’ll stay.”

Tim kept crying for a while, but eventually the sobs died out, and he was lying on Bruce’s chest with his eyes closed, utterly exhausted, yet somehow not asleep. The bite-intoxication had faded, maybe that was part of why his mind was eerily alert.

“What was _that_ about?” he heard Dick ask Bruce.

“I said we’d have words later.”

“That was about what I did with him tonight. I’m talking about what happened with him freaking out just now.”

“Dick, drop it. It’s none of your business.”

“Oh yes it is. If you’re not making the pack omega happy, then you’re failing as pack alpha.”

Tim stiffened, expecting Bruce to bite back hard to this oblique challenge, but instead after a long pause he heard Bruce say, “Maybe I am,” very low and tired.

“Do you know Jason’s been thinking of challenging you?”

“I know.”

Tim didn’t know, didn’t even suspect. Was the pack really that close to the brink?

“I’ve been talking him down and telling him I’d have to back you up,” said Dick, “but if it’s this serious...”

“It’s very serious. It’s... what we all did to him, under my direction, it was...”

Was Bruce actually going to admit to Dick that none of it had been necessary?

“I’m trying to make it up to him,” Bruce said at last.

“Jason and I are gonna make sure you do.”

“As you should.”

The conversation ceased there, but it took Tim a long time to fall asleep.


End file.
